Bad Timing
by quarks and all
Summary: In the aftermath of Tony's injury, McGee finds that the Tony has more hidden than he would have ever guessed. McNozzo slash. Sequel to Matters of the Heart, Matters of the Mind.
1. Back to Work

_AN: This is the sequel to the story Matters of the Heart, Matters of the Mind. While that story was more or less from McGee's point of view, this one is from Tony's. And fair warning, there are several moments where Tony doesn't make sense or elaborate on things, but those will be resolved if you just keep reading. The lack of explanation is for a reason. Also, this story is longer, and won't be updated as often, because it's not totally finished yet. Anyways, enjoy._

Chapter One: Back to Work

Two and a half weeks had passed since the incident in the hospital, as Tony finally drove to work for the first time since he was shot. Tony had firmly decided that whatever happened in the hospital would _stay_ in the hospital and was in no mood to address what had happened there. Ever.

The fact that he couldn't stop thinking about it, _wishing_ he could do something about it, was certainly _not _going to color his decision as to the right course of action. Neither was the fact that he hadn't even _seen_ McGee since that day. Or the fact that he had really _wanted_ to see McGee, but hadn't had a fucking clue what to say. Not to mention how he felt about seeing the younger agent today.

Walking into the bull-pen, Tony was suddenly jumped by a very excited Abby, who gave him a huge hug and then began jumping up and down in excitement. "Tony! I have a surprise for you down in my lab!" Abby then grabbed Tony by the arm and started dragging him towards the elevator.

He barely had a chance to notice that Ziva was the only one in the bull-pen.

Abby's lab was decorated with banners and streamers and all sorts of other things to welcome him back. Tony grinned in appreciation. Abby turned and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't move." Then she disappeared into the back room.

Tony took that moment to look around the room. As far as he could see, McGee wasn't here either, which made him feel torn. The part of him that _really_ wanted to see McGee was devastated, but the part of him saying that there was no reason for him to want to see McGee was thinking something more along the lines of _good riddance_. Part of Tony really _hated_ the latter part of himself.

Abby reappeared with some sort of box, which she shoved into his hands. "Open it, open it!" she demanded excitedly, practically shivering with the need to start jumping up and down in excitement again.

Tony ripped off the black wrapping paper and then pulled out his knife to cut the tape holding the box shut. Inside was a photo album. Inside were all sorts of pictures of the team—some of which he was fairly certain _shouldn't_ have existed. Because there wasn't anyone with a camera around at those moments as far as he knew.

Tony looked up at Abby with a huge grin. "Thanks, Abs. This is awesome. But…how did you get these pictures?"

"I hacked into the security cameras and saved specific frames as pictures. It took ages to go through them. McGee helped me sort through them, but he didn't really know what I was doing. He just thought I was being me." Abby smiled at Tony. "Okay, now go back up and start working, or Gibbs will have your head for slacking off on your day back."

Tony grinned. "Right. Thanks, Abs. Really." He disappeared into the elevator.

The ride up was just long enough for Tony's divided mind to start arguing about his current situation. He found himself using his free hand to massage his aching temples.

When the elevators dinged open, Tony plastered the usual grin on his face and strutted across the room towards his desk. He deposited the photo album on his desk, and then leaned on Ziva's, trying to catch a glimpse of the book she was reading, but found that it was in Hebrew—or some other language that he didn't understand.

"Good morning, Zee-vah."

"Tony," she responded, looking up at him, "I almost forgot you were coming back to work today. How are you?"

"Fine. Well, assuming this isn't hell and I have to do the same paperwork over and over again." Tony grinned at her.

"It's not hell, Tony, grab your gear, we've got a dead marine." Gibbs entered the room fluidly and without any warning. "Where's McGee?"

"Dunno, boss. I haven't seen him."

"He said he was going to go down and help someone who was having problems in Cyber Crimes," Ziva answered.

"Well, go tell him that if he wants to stay a field agent he better get his ass up here, David."

"On it boss." She disappeared onto the elevator as Tony walked over to his desk and bent down to grab his stuff.

His abdomen erupted in pain, and he had to take a few deep breaths to clear his head before he could stand back up, gear in hand. "You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, boss. Just a little painful to bend down still." _Understatement of the year_, he added silently.

"Then don't bend down," Gibbs suggested.

"Right, boss." Tony followed him onto the elevator and out to the car, where they waited for McGee and Ziva.

When McGee and Ziva appeared at the car and climbed in, McGee immediately began apologizing. "Sorry boss, no one down there could figure out how to get into this guy's computer because they thought there was a fifth level of encryption and—"

"McGee, don't apologize. It's a sign of weakness."

"Got it, boss."

"No you don't, you still do it every time, _McGee_," Tony challenged.

"_DiNozzo._"

"On it, boss." Tony head-slapped himself for Gibbs.

The rest of the drive was silent. When they got to the crime scene, Tony was given the duty of taking pictures as McGee and Ziva searched the area for more evidence. Once Tony was done photographing the body, he was called over by McGee to take pictures of something as Ducky and Palmer started assessing the body.

McGee had found a bloody knife, which Tony, _stupidly_, bent over to take a picture of. His vision went black with the pain. When he could see again, McGee was holding him upright by the arms, and right in his face. McGee's lips were moving, but Tony couldn't hear anything. Slowly he regained his hearing. "…hear me? Tony? Are you okay?"

Tony blinked a few times, nodding blankly, looking extremely dazed.

"Okay, Tony. We're going to go sit down by the car. Do you understand?" McGee's eyebrows were drawn together in worry, and he bit his lip while he waited for Tony to respond.

Tony nodded again, but that seemed to be making him slightly dizzy. "Y-yeah. I understand."

McGee nodded, and then gently led Tony over to the car and sat him down on the hood.

The motion hurt a bit, but it helped Tony's head start to clear up. He suddenly realized how close he was to McGee. "I'm fine, McGee. Here." He handed McGee the camera. "Go take pictures or something. I'll be back over in a minute."

McGee was hesitant, but decided not to argue. He took the camera from Tony, gently squeezing Tony's hand as he did, and went back over to the knife to document.

Tony's head was swimming with thoughts that he could only half-understand. Maybe he had been pushing it coming back to work this soon.

When Tony regained the ability to think clearly, he was left with the distinct impression that part of the confusion was because of his previous close proximity to McGee. The angry side of him was telling him that McGee was evil and doing Satan's work and _didn't he remember last time?_ The other part of him was joyously proclaiming that see, McGee _didn't_ hate him, and that if Tony hadn't been in so much pain, maybe he could have kissed him. The tiny voice of reason was telling him that wasn't the thing to do at that moment, but it was being drowned out by the angry _no way in hell_.  
By the time he had really regained his bearings, everyone was headed back towards the car, and Ducky and Palmer were nowhere to be seen.

Tony felt totally useless. He was half-dragged into the car by Ziva while the evidence was getting put away in the back of the car.

They drove back to NCIS to the sounds of McGee and Ziva discussing some of the evidence. Gibbs looked at Tony in the rear-view mirror and shook his head slowly. Tony took that to mean that he wasn't allowed to do any field work until further notice. Which honestly suited him just fine after that last fiasco.


	2. Maybe This is Hell

Chapter Two: Maybe This Is Hell

Tony sat at his desk filling out paperwork. He was the only one in the bull-pen because McGee and Ziva were out interviewing a suspect and Gibbs was downstairs visiting Abby and Ducky. Despite what Gibbs had assured him earlier, Tony was certain that he actually was in hell. He had humiliated himself in front of the whole team except Abby, and was now relegated to desk work. Paperwork. He had _known_ he was in hell.

The thing about sitting alone doing mind-numbing paperwork was that it gave your thoughts plenty of room to wander off while you filled out stupid forms that didn't require any thought. Thoughts about how no one seemed to think less of him, even though he deserved it, and thoughts about how nice McGee's breath smelled, and how he had felt like electricity had sparked between their hands when McGee had touched him, and about how beautiful McGee's eyes were, and…

The booming voice of anger sounded in his head, telling him that he should _never_ think such thoughts. _Didn't he remember last time?_ it demanded again. That voice, as loud as it was, was being squelched by a more convincing voice that told him that it wasn't the same as last time, that it couldn't be the same, that his dad couldn't—

The elevator dinged, and Gibbs reappeared onto the floor, cutting off whatever thoughts were floating through Tony's head. "DiNozzo, I need you to find anything you can on a Petty Officer Ryan Gabby."

"On it, boss." Tony wiggled his mouse to get his computers attention before searching for any information that he could find on the Lieutenant.

By the time McGee and Ziva reappeared, Tony had found plenty of information on the Lieutenant. While McGee and Ziva told Gibbs what they had found, Tony set up his computer to show what he'd found.

"Petty Officer Ryan Gabby. He has a bit of a record of getting into bar fights, mostly with Army Rangers, so that's not strange. However, he and our petty officer don't appear to have gotten along. They both got official reprimands from their commanding officer for getting into a fist fight during a training session. The report was vague, so I called the CO, and she told me that from what anyone could—or would—tell they were fighting over a girl. But she had some doubts as to that being the actual cause of the dispute."

"Good work, DiNozzo. You're coming with me to interview the Petty Officer and others on base who might know what's going on. McGee, look up what you can on what these two have to fight about. Ziva, look into their peers, see what they might be hiding."

"On it, boss," Ziva and McGee said together.

Tony pulled himself up out of his chair and got his badge and gun out before following Gibbs onto the elevator.

The trip to Quantico was quiet, but painful for Tony. As they drove by the hotel on the way to the base he could almost feel the gunshot hitting him again, but he didn't show it. Once they were there, they immediately went to talk to the CO to ask where to find Gabby, and then found the petty officer in his bunk, reading.

"Petty officer, we have some questions to ask you regarding your confrontation with petty Officer Gonzalez," Tony started.

"Look, I've already told everyone this. My girlfriend broke up with me for him, and he was like my best friend. I lost my temper, but I've already apologized to him and everything. And besides, she broke up with him like a week later. Why is everybody bringing this up again? It's been like two months since that happened. You can ask anyone, we're not arguing or fighting anymore. We're back to how we were before."

"Gabby, Gonzalez is dead. His body was found this morning on a playground. Do you have anything to share with us that might help us find who did this?" Tony asked quietly.

"He's dead? I-I don't…I—is he really dead?" Gabby stammered.

"He is, now can you give us any further information?" Gibbs barked.

"Sir…what I said before…It's mostly true. Except, the real problem was that Gonzalez was…that is to say…Gonzalez was gay, sir. That's why we got into a fight. Because he turned her down, and then he told me and I felt so bad for hitting him…Agent Gibbs, I don't think anyone else knew, but our CO suspected, so she didn't press the matter. But beside that, I don't know anything. I'm so sorry." Gabby stumbled through the explanation.  
Gibbs nodded. "Thank you, Gunny."

Tony walked down towards the training field to ask the others about the petty officer while Gibbs went to talk to the CO. They were practicing martial arts, and after a minute of calling at them to stop, Tony made the mistake of attempting to physically get their attention. That got him a fist into the gut. He felt a moment of intense pain, and then nothing.

Tony woke to see someone standing over him. The face was swimming, and he couldn't tell if they were trying to speak or not, and he eventually closed his eyes to quell a wave of nausea. After a few more moments, he felt someone tapping his face harshly.

"Ugh…go away, or I'll barf on you."

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to hit you. I didn't think I'd hit you all that hard anyways…"

"Stop talking. Get Gibbs."

"Gibbs?"

"Special Agent Gibbs!"

"Yessir." The person crouched next to Tony left. Tony clenched his teeth, repeating over and over again that he was not going to throw up in his head. Then the soldier reappeared. "My CO says he'll be down in a minute. I didn't mean to—"

"Stop talking! For the love of all that is holy, don't you understand what I am trying to tell you, Petty Officer?" Tony growled. The room fell into a blissful silence, where all that could be heard was Tony's ragged breathing.

"DiNozzo, what is going on?"

Before Tony could answer, the petty officer was explaining. "Sir, we were training and he startled me, so I hit him in the gut out of instinct. Not very hard…we _were_ just training, but then he just collapsed, and—"

"_Are you DiNozzo, Petty Officer?_" Gibbs demanded.

"No, sir," he said, stumbling over himself.

"I didn't think so. DiNozzo?"

"He's right, boss. He didn't mean to hurt me, but, well, you know me." Tony shuddered.

"Come on, DiNozzo. Up we go." Gibbs grabbed him under the arms and started pulling him up.

"But I like it down here, boss," Tony complained as he was sat up. A sudden more violent wave of nausea flooded through him, and he put his head between his knees to fight it off.

"DiNozzo, what were you thinking? What did you expect to happen?"

"Dunno, boss. Not _that_." Tony swallowed back the bile in his throat.

Gibbs shook his head. He turned to the petty officers. "What can you tell me about Petty Officer Gabby?"

"Gonzalez? He is a good guy. Never causes any trouble, helps everyone else out. He is a real good marine, sir." The petty officer who hit Tony said.

"Yeah, that's exactly right, sir," answered one of the marines. The rest nodded in agreement.

"Was a good marine. He was found dead this morning. Murdered." Gibbs sounded almost bored.

"Really, sir? I can't imagine who would have killed him. He was a good guy. Only ever got in the one fight with anyone, and he and Gabby made up within twenty-four hours. Sir, I can't imagine why someone would kill him."

Gibbs nodded. "Thank you. If you think of anything, please call and tell us." He put his hands under Tony's arms again. "Come on, Tony. We've got to go." He started dragging Tony to his feet.

"Come on, boss. Can't I just stay here? I think I'm too tall to stand up. I should just stay sitting," Tony muttered, just loud enough for Gibbs to hear and no one else.

"Nope, you've got to see Ducky, make sure there's no internal damage." Gibbs led a stumbling Tony to the car and strapped him in.

"Boss, I might throw up in your car."

"Don't you dare, DiNozzo."


	3. The Pros and Cons of Pain Medicine

Chapter Three: The Pros and Cons of Pain Medicine

Tony lay on a metal exam table in Ducky's morgue, being utterly humiliated by Palmer gazing at his bare chest in an intense way. As much as he knew Palmer was trying to be clinical, he also realized that the younger man was trying very hard not to make some wise-crack about Tony's current condition. Palmer pressed on the wound in Tony's abdomen gently, slowly adding pressure to gauge the amount of pain he was in.

"Any harder, Palmer, and I'll puke on you," Tony threatened through his teeth.

One look at Tony's face made Palmer jerk his hand off of his stomach. "Dr. Mallard, there doesn't seem to be any internal damage, but don't you think he's in more pain than he ought to be?"

"Mr. Palmer, have you ever been shot? I daresay you have little reference on which to gauge the amount of pain it ought to be causing. I remember back during the First Gulf War—" Ducky began.

"Dr. Mallard, I just mean that shouldn't he be on pain medication or something to reduce the pain. Tony's not even slightly loopy." Palmer suggested, trying to avoid a full-blown tangent when he thought he already knew what was wrong.

"Loopy, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know, like when you're on an opioid and you say weird things. I mean, shouldn't he be on something like that after the kind of surgery he went through?"

"Right you are, Mr. Palmer. Anthony, when was the last time you took your medicine?" Ducky directed his attention towards their patient.

"Last night or something. Look, Duck, I'm grateful your doing this, but it's hard to trust what Palmer's saying when there's a dead body one bed over," Tony suggested queasily.

"This is a morgue, not a hospital, Anthony. Nevertheless, could you put a sheet over Mr. Gonzalez for us, Mr. Palmer?"

"Of course, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky turned back to Tony. "You haven't taken any since last night, Anthony? Your medicine only lasts four hours, so why didn't you take any this morning, I wonder?"

"Well, I hate to admit it, but Palmer's right. It makes me pretty loopy, Ducky, and I was good enough to work without it." Tony flashed Ducky a pain-filled grin.

"Anthony, you have to take it, regardless. According to Gibbs you almost fainted when you leaned over to get your bag this morning. I'm going to have to insist that you take your medicine. Take another week off work if you are too disoriented to concentrate, but you cannot go without it, or you are going to end up more grievously injured than you are now."

"Fine, fine, Ducky, I'll take it. It's in my bag." Tony motioned for the bag next to the door of Autopsy.

"Mr. Palmer, if you would be so kind," Ducky suggested, not unkindly.

"Here you are, Dr. Mallard." Palmer handed Ducky the medicine out of Tony's bag, and then got a glass of water from the sink as Tony say up.

"Thank you, Mr. Palmer." Ducky placed two pills in one of Tony's hands and the water in his other. "Drink up, Anthony. And I want you in here for twenty minutes more to make sure that you're still able to work."

"Sure, Ducky." Tony popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them with the water. Palmer took the glass away when Tony was done.

Tony laid back down on the gurney while Ducky and Palmer continued their autopsy of the dead Marine. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that he was on the beach in Hawaii, surrounded by hot chicks…

Somehow, he couldn't even daydream without McGee popping up in it, and he was secretly glad. At least daydreams didn't come true…

"Tony, Dr. Mallard says that you seem well enough to go back up to work now." Tony's eyes snapped open to see Palmer standing over him. He glanced over to see that the body was stored away, which meant that he must have fallen asleep.

"Right, thanks Palmer." Tony sat up and began searching for his shirt, a numb feeling in his gut in addition to painlessness. He knew the meds were working because he felt like he was on cloud nine.

McGee entered then to ask for Ducky's autopsy results. He caught sight of Tony topless, ogled for all of two seconds before he turned away with a rushed, "Sorry, Tony. I didn't mean to…I didn't…"

Tony finally found his shirt and pulled it on. "Don't worry, McGee. I'm so high right now I think if you'd raped me I would have been okay with it." Something in the back of Tony's mind was trying to tell him that wasn't the kind of thought he was supposed to voice, but he didn't understand what the hell that was all about anyway.

McGee turned to face him, stammering nonsensically. "Uh, buh, duh, buh, wha, huh, duh…What?"

Palmer's face mirrored McGee's tone. "I think I see why you didn't want to take those before coming to work now."

McGee looked at Palmer dumbfounded, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.

Palmer shook his head. "His painkillers. He hasn't taken them in more than twelve hours, excepting what he just took an hour ago."

McGee relaxed significantly, but furrowed his eyebrows. "Oh. That makes so much more sense."

Tony laughed. "Silly, Palmer. It'd been like sixteen hours." He furrowed his brow and started counting on his fingers. "Yeah, sixteen hours." Tony grinned at them happily.

McGee shook his head doubtfully. "I worry about you sometimes, Tony."

Tony walked over to McGee and swung an arm around the younger agent's shoulders. "Now, now McGee. You don't need to be worrying about me; _I'm_ the senior field agent." Tony grinned cockily and leaned towards McGee conspiratoriously, whispering, "Besides, we could get all that _worrying_ out of our systems tonight, if you want."

McGee swallowed, flushing an unseemly shade of red. Something in the way Tony had said that had been _utterly_ dirty, but none of the words actually meant anything bad.

Palmer shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. "I'm just going to go get Dr. Mallard for you, McGee," Palmer muttered before vanishing into a back room.

"Alone at last," Tony purred seductively.

As much as McGee enjoyed the contact, his conscious won over his desire to kiss he senior field agent. Peeling Tony's arm off his shoulders, McGee managed to stammer, "As much as I enjoy that thought, Tony, if you were sober you wouldn't be offering, and I'm not going to take advantage of you. Why don't you go see Abby?"

Tony followed the retreating McGee towards the wall, eventually pinning McGee to the wall, the close proximity making McGee gulp and his mind go blank. Tony licked his lips, leaned in for a kiss, and—

The last rational part of McGee's brain kicked into action, grabbing Tony by the arm and dragging him to the elevator, hitting the button for Abby's floor and retreating out at the last minute. Picking up his phone, he called Abby, who answered on the second ring.

"What's up, McGee?"

"When the elevator opens up, grab Tony and handcuff him in your back office or something." McGee's heart was racing and his breathing was out of control.

"McGee, is something wrong? Why am I chaining Tony up?"

"He's delusional and on prescription pain medicine and he _tried to kiss me!_" McGee's voice was panicky.

"Hold on." There were vague sounds of a scuffle and then Abby was back on the phone. "Don't you want him to kiss you?"

"Not when he's just doing it because he's high!"


	4. Past and Present

Chapter Four: Past and Present

"Abby! Come on, Abby, you can't just leave me here! Please un-cuff me. Please!" Tony called from where he was chained in Abby's back office. He had been doing so for fifteen minutes, but to no avail. Why couldn't anyone just _let him kiss McGee_? Abby even _knew_ that was what her little Timmy wanted. Maybe, Tony's delusional brain suggested, that was _why_ she wouldn't let him out. Jealous bitch.

Abby finally came back to see Tony, looking more than slightly miffed. "Look, Tony, I can't speak for Tim, but I can tell you that my own observations reveal that you really _aren't_ yourself right now. I have to agree with Tim on this one: if you can't _act_ like the Tony we know, then you must be an impostor. I mean, our Tony doesn't even _like_ guys. I've seen him."

Tony shook his head indignantly. "I _am_ your Tony, Abby! Why don't you believe that?"

"Explain why you are acting so different. Pain meds don't magically make you attracted to the same sex," Abby demanded with a glare.

"I always have been attracted to guys, Abby. And have you seen McGee lately? He's _hot._ I mean, yeah, I usually sleep with women, but that's because…" Tony trailed off, as if something had suddenly come to him. "Oh…oh…_oh_."

"Tony?"

He tilted his head back, as if in a trance. "Right. Uh…Abby, I think…I think I shouldn't like McGee. I think it's wrong." Tony blinked and shook his head as if it would make his unpleasant thoughts go away.

"What? Are you telling me that you're one of _those_ people, Tony? You can't be gay because _it's wrong_? Are you saying that you think that McGee's going to hell? _Tony?_" Abby's eyes were flaming with rage.

Tony jerked his head up to meet Abby's angry gaze. "McGee isn't going to hell. McGee's a good guy…I mean…It's not like you go to hell because you're gay or bi or whatever, Abby." Tony dropped his head back on the chair.

"What are you talking about, Tony?" Abby's voice squeaked slightly. "You aren't making any sense. Why is it wrong for you to like Timmy?"

Tony closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "_Because_. I can't have McGee. Bad things happen to guys I date… bad things. Daddy doesn't like it, and Gibbs says 'never date a coworker', and _look at McGee_. He is way out of my league. Like if my league was here, his league would be like… in another solar system… or something…"

Abby furrowed her brows and tilted her head to the right. "What are you talking about, Tony? You aren't making any sense."

Tony jolted upright, leaning close so that he was right in Abby's face. "When I was in high school there was Jamie. Jamie was nice like McGee. He was cute like McGee. I imagine he and McGee are similar in that they are both _fantastic_ kissers, but I haven't actually kissed McGee, so…" Tony looked vaguely to the right, imagining kissing McGee, then his eyes darted right back to Abby's face. "But then…He left. Daddy was angry. He said no son of his would _ever_ kiss a guy, even if they wanted to, and he…so then I didn't kiss guys. But McGee's so…" Tony shook his head and shoved his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Tony, who the hell cares what your dad says? He's an ass." Abby furrowed her brows again in confusion.

"Because what happened to Jamie? I don't know. I've never known. And I don't want McGee to leave. Because Jamie just left, said he didn't like me, and left. And what if McGee does that? What if he doesn't leave? Because, anyone is better for him than me. _You're_ better for him than me. What if he's stuck with stupid DiNozzo, but he deserves someone smart and funny and not obsessed with stupid movies? What if he just disappears, because I'm not _supposed_ to kiss boys? I'm not supposed to, Abby." Tony was panicking, and he was looking at Abby as if she held the answers to all the terrible possibilities that the world held.

"Tony, calm down. Tim's not just going to disappear or decide he doesn't like you for no reason. This is McGee we're talking about, Tony. What are you talking about?" Abby was lost, mostly because Tony was acting like a five year old who had been told that eating cookies and candy would kill him and hadn't understood _why_, but had freaked out anyway because he didn't _want_ to die.

"_I'm not supposed to kiss boys_," Tony pleaded, as if she could make it go away.

"Tony, do you want to kiss boys?" Abby decided that if Tony was five, that made her his mom.

"I want to kiss McGee."

"Then, I'd say you're no less supposed to kiss boys than girls. Tony, you ought to be with the person that makes you happy, not the person you're 'supposed' to be with." She smiled at him reassuringly.

Tony stammered formlessly for a while before shaking his head and grinning back at Abby. "Okay. Thanks, Abs." He turned to the computer and started looking up something online. Abby left him to it.

Tony heard the doors slide open to Abby's lab and turned to see McGee coming in. He flushed and turned back to the computer, pretending to work, but straining his ears to listen.

"Abby, I'm sorry I sent him to you like that, I didn't mean to, it's just that—" McGee began in apology.

"Sh," Abby whispered. Tony assumed she had gestured at him then. "Look, I don't know what's up with Tony, but he seems to be a lot more… _forthright_… than usual, and I _still_ have no idea what it is. He's going on about his dad, and some guy named Jamie, and something about you being out of his league. I'm not sure _he_ knows what he's talking about McGee. He's confused, conflicted, doesn't know what he's feeling. And _we've_ had this conversation before, because you didn't think _you_ were in _his_ league. I mean, Tony's totally straight, right? Except he's tripped more than one gay-dar in his time. I don't know what Tony is, but I'd have to say for sure he is _McGee-sexual_. And possibly Jamie-sexual. Not sure about that one."

Tony could almost hear her tilt her head to the side thoughtfully.

"What?" McGee spluttered quietly. "Are you saying I should have let him kiss me?"

"No, I don't think he's actually ready for that yet. I tried to reassure him, but… look, I don't think you should be passive about this, but you also need to be delicate. I mean you could—"

"He could what, Abby?" Gibbs asked by way of greeting as he entered the lab.

"Gibbs! I've been expecting you. So the blood on the knife _is_ Petty Officer Gonzalez's. However, I was able to pull some prints off of the knife, and I ran them through AIFS, but there is no match. So, I'd say whoever stabbed him wasn't in the armed forces and has a totally clean record."

"And you couldn't have said this on the phone?"

"I have something even better for you, Gibbs. Not _all_ the blood on the crime scene belonged to our petty officer. Some of it was type A positive, and Gabby was O negative. I ran the DNA through every database I could think of, but I still don't have a match. But if you have any suspects, I can match them based on DNA and fingerprints."

"_Abs._"

McGee cut in. "Boss, that cuts down our list of suspects. If it was no one in the armed forces, that really just leaves his girlfriend, doesn't it?"

"Bring her in, McGee."

"On it, boss." The doors opened and shut again as McGee left.

"Abs—"

"I'm sorry, Gibbs, but that's all she wrote."

"Abs—"

"I don't have anything else, so I guess I didn't earn the Caff-Pow you have behind your back. I was really just—"

"_Abs._"

"Sorry, Gibbs."

"Why is DiNozzo chained up in your office?"

"Oh, that?" Abby smiled. "Ducky made him take his pain medicine, so now he's all trippy, and I figured that less stimulation would be better than more at this point."

Gibbs smiled back and handed her the Caff-Pow. "Good work, Abs."

"Thank you, Gibbs."

"But you might want to close the door and the blinds."

"On it, boss."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at her.

"I mean, right you are. Thanks." Abby smiled and walked over to shut the door and blinds.

"Not a problem, Abby."


	5. At Home Without a Care

Chapter Five: At Home Without a Care

Tony jumped when he felt a hand gently squeeze his shoulder. He had fallen asleep in Abby's back office.

McGee spoke quietly to him. "Tony, Gibbs is sending us home now. Do you need a ride?"

Tony opened his mouth to say no, but found he really _wanted_ McGee to give him a ride home. "I don't know…I drove here this morning, but…"

"Ducky suggested that you shouldn't drive when you're on the medicine because it makes you so distracted. I mean, it's worn off now, but if you intend on taking it before you come in tomorrow, then I can pick you up in the morning or something," McGee offered hesitantly.

"What time _is_ it?" Tony asked. How long had he been asleep?

"It's like six o'clock. Abby said you fell asleep at like four, but you looked so peaceful she wouldn't wake you."

"Why didn't Gibbs, you know, smack me?" Tony demanded, sleepily.

"Abby convinced him that you needed to sleep." Sensing Tony's disbelief, McGee added, "I have no idea how. She said that if she told me she'd have to kill me."

Tony smiled at him. "Of course. Uh…I would probably feel more comfortable if you drove me home now. I feel like I could pass out at any moment."

McGee put a hand to Tony's forehead, and frowned. "Are you feeling okay, Tony? You really don't look good."

Tony shook his head. "I'm fine. It's just what happens once that stupid medicine wears off. It puts me to sleep, and then I wake up feeling like crap. But I'm fine, really."

McGee furrowed his brows doubtfully. "Okay. How about you get your stuff together and then meet me in the bull-pen in like five minutes?"

"Sure, McGee. But, um, can you get Abby to un-cuff me, first? I don't want to have to gnaw off my own hand."

"Well, I guess I don't want you bleeding all over my car." McGee smiled at him and left.

After a few minutes, Abby came in and unlocked his cuffs. "See Tony, that wasn't so bad. You even got to take a nap."

"Yeah, Abby. Thanks." Tony turned his chair around, and took the hand Abby was offering to help him up. He stood woozily for a moment until the blood flow to his head returned to normal.

"Timmy was right, Tony. You _don't_ look good." Concern filled Abby's eyes.

"Well, _thanks_, Abby. It's nice to know that I'm not as attractive as I used to be." Tony winked at her.

"You know what I mean, Tony." Abby grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into her lab. "Okay, off you go." Abby smiled at him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Hm, thanks Abby. See you tomorrow." Tony got on the elevator and went up to the bullpen.

McGee appeared at his elbow when he almost fell over trying to grab his bag. "You okay, Tony?"

"Yeah, yeah. I just need to stop trying to bend over." McGee held him up for a few moments before grabbing Tony's bag, and pulling him after him onto the elevator.

"Where did you come from, anyways, McGee? What are you, turning into Gibbs or Ziva?"

McGee snickered. "Not likely. I'm a geek, not a ninja, Tony."

"That's just what a ninja would say." Tony grinned at him.

McGee shook his head. "I would be like the worst ninja ever. I would fall off a building or something. I'm not very sneaky."

"Whatever." Tony felt a sudden rush of dizziness, and leaned back on McGee for balance.

Tony felt McGee gently wrap his hands around his waist. "You okay, Tony?"

"Just a little dizzy." The elevator dinged open, and McGee led Tony to his car, taking extra care to move slowly and smoothly. "See, McGee, I knew you were a ninja. You're not bouncing or anything at all."

"Sure, Tony. But now you're on to me, so I'll have to kill you," McGee chuckled. McGee opened the car and gently maneuvered Tony into the seat.

"Oh, don't kill me, McGee. I'm too pretty to die!" Tony squealed jokingly, as McGee closed the door.

McGee clambered into the driver's seat and turned on the car. "Tony, are you sure you're okay? Ducky said that it shouldn't really be a problem, but I'm not sure. You still don't look so good."

Tony pouted. "You and Abby are being so mean today. Telling me I'm unattractive all the time for no reason."

McGee raised one eyebrow and shook his head. "You know what I mean, Tony."

Tony leaned his head back and closed his eyes, just to relax for a minute…

The next thing he knew, a hand was resting on his shoulder. "Hey, Tony, we're at your place. Tony? Come on, you gotta get up." McGee was standing next to him outside the car.

Tony was trying to wake up and having a difficult time of it. McGee sighed and slung one of Tony's arms over his shoulders and put an arm under Tony's knees, carrying him up to his apartment. McGee opened the door and carried Tony to his bed and laid him down. He pulled off Tony's shoes and socks, causing the senior agent to shift and grumble. "Tony, are you going to actually wake up for me?" McGee paused as Tony stopped shifting. "I didn't think so." McGee unbuttoned Tony's pants and slid them off with difficulty. Tony was unhelpfully kicking his legs, though McGee suspected he was actually _trying_ to be helpful. Tony then felt blankets being pulled over him.

McGee sat down on the edge of the bed. "Tony, I'm getting you food. Do you want Chinese or pizza or something else?"

Tony grumbled and finally managed to say, "Not hungry."

"Tony, you have to eat something. You didn't eat lunch, either. If you don't pick something I'll pick it for you," McGee threatened gently.

"Fine, pizza," Tony mumbled without opening his eyes.

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute." McGee got off the bed and disappeared.

After several minutes, he returned carrying a DVD. He put it in the DVD player and turned on the TV. He sat down on the bed next to Tony, the volume turned down low so as not to disturb the sleeping agent.

"Magnum. Good choice, Probie." Tony said, barely moving his lips.

"It's your favorite one, right?"

"Yeah." They fell back into a companionable silence until the doorbell rang.

McGee got up, and returned with a pizza, turning on the lights and turning off the TV.

"Tim…" Tony complained, pulling the blankets up over his head.

McGee sat down on the bed and yanked the blanket off Tony's head. He pulled Tony into a sitting position and placed a paper plate into Tony's hands. "Eat up. At least the one slice, Tony. It's pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese, just like you like it."

Tony finally opened his eyes. "McGee, why are you tormenting me? I just want to sleep."

"Tony, did you even eat breakfast this morning?" McGee asked quietly, taking a bite out of a piece of pizza.

"No. So what?"

"You've been falling asleep since two o'clock. You're blood sugar's low. Eat up."

Tony growled and took a bite out of his pizza. At first it made him feel nauseous, but slowly it started to make him feel better. He took another slice out of the box on McGee's lap. When he tried to take a third slice, McGee moved the box to Tony's lap and left the room.

Tony swallowed and called out. "McGee?"

McGee returned with a glass of water and a dose of pain medicine. He smiled at Tony, handing him the water and medicine. "Bottoms up."

Tony groaned. "Tim—"

"I'll leave; don't worry about it, Tony. Ducky made me promise to make you take it." McGee hit a button on the remote to make the movie start playing again.

Tony wanted to argue, but he knew it wouldn't get him anywhere. He took the pills and then grabbed a fifth piece of pizza. Through a mouthful of food, he asked, "McGee, did you only eat two pieces of pizza?"

"Tony, I ate lunch, remember? And I'm trying to cut back," McGee answered distractedly.

Tony nodded finishing his piece. "You sure you don't want this last slice?"

"I'm good, Tony. You go ahead."

Tony nodded, took the other slice, and scarfed it down in a matter of moments.

After a few minutes, McGee got up and searched for his shoes. After several moments' hesitation, Tony managed, "Don't you want to finish the movie with me?"

McGee looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Tony, I'd love to, but after earlier, I'm not sure it's the best idea."

"What if I said I actually do want to kiss you," Tony mumbled so quietly McGee could barely here him.

McGee stood up and looked Tony in the eye. Very quietly, McGee responded, "I'd say you should go for it." He watched Tony for several moments, holding very still. Tony slowly leaned forward and very softly kissed McGee on the lips. Then he lay down and threw the pizza box on the floor.

McGee turned off the lights and sat back down on the bed. "I'll stay for the rest of the movie, but only because I'm pretty sure you'll be asleep in ten minutes anyways, and I really want to see this movie."

"Whatever, Timmy," Tony responded sleepily. After several minutes of struggling to stay awake, Tony slipped into a peaceful sleep.


	6. The Morning After

Chapter Six: The Morning After

Tony awoke to the sound of his alarm clock, he automatically jerked around to hit the snooze button, and managed to get it before he was all but immobilized by the pain in his stomach. He groaned hopelessly for a while before the alarm clock went off again and he turned it off. In the back of his mind he knew he had to get up, but he really, _really_ didn't want to. He was in too much pain.

After a few moments, Tony managed to roll onto his back and sit up slowly. He gingerly lifted his shirt to see the scar from his surgery and a nasty looking bruise from yesterday. He winced at the memory of the pain.

Once out of bed Tony searched through his closet for something to wear, chucking what he decided on across the room onto the bed. He then grabbed his clothes and proceeded to go start the water running for a shower. Under the water, he cursed the pain flowing through his abdomen, resisting the urge to cry, regardless of the pointlessness of such an effort. He found it was an impossible goal, and found himself crying at something he couldn't name, collapsing to his knees and holding them to his chest as if his life depended on it. After several minutes he collected himself, feeling better if somewhat dirty. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, and he didn't even know what had so upset him this morning.

While Tony was dressing he heard a knock at the bathroom door, and then McGee's muffled voice sounded through the door: "Tony, you in there?"

"No, someone else is dressing in my bathroom," Tony replied snarkily.

"Have you eaten or taken your medicine yet?"

"Of course not. I barely just got out of the shower, and barely just got up before that."

"Tony! We're going to be so late! Gibbs is so gonna kill me," McGee groaned. Tony heard him storm off, presumably to put together some sort of meal for him.

Tony opened the bathroom door, throwing his dirty clothes into the corner of his room. He noticed vaguely that the pizza box was gone and assumed McGee had thrown it away before he had left the night before.

Tony grumpily stumbled into the kitchen and sat down at the table, dropping his head onto his elbows crossed in front of him.

"Ugh, Tony! Don't go to sleep now," McGee hissed. He pulled Tony upright by the back of his shirt and dropped a bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee in front of him. "Eat."

Tony obeyed, too tired to argue. He felt like he'd been up for thirty hours, not thirty minutes. As soon as he was done eating, McGee dropped two pills into his hand and vanished his dirty dishes. Tony unwillingly took the pills before being dragged out of the place by McGee, who was already carrying Tony's bag.

The ride to work was eerily quiet. Tony was too tired to talk, and McGee was too worried about being late to say anything that wasn't extremely biting. Once they were parked, McGee pulled Tony into the building and onto the elevator up to MTAC. Tony would have complained if he wasn't so tired. McGee dropped him into his seat and dropped his bag next to the desk unceremoniously before going to his own desk, just in time for Gibbs to enter with an annoyed "You're late, McGee."

"It won't happen again, boss," McGee promised.

"You're right, it won't or I'll send you back down to Cyber Crimes."

McGee nodded and immediately got to work, dropping his bag down and flicking his computer on. He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the computer to load.

Tony may have been high, but he hadn't imagined _that_. McGee had totally taken the blame for being late, hadn't explained, hadn't argued or stumbled or apologized. Like he'd _planned_ on not telling Gibbs. McGee had protected him without a thought, and all Tony could think was that he wasn't sure he would have done it in McGee's position. The fact that Ziva didn't say anything made him think that he either just looked _that_ pathetic or she was actually protecting McGee. Something told him that the later was more likely.

After an hour or so of busy-work, Gibbs left to talk to Director Vance and McGee left to help Abby, leaving only Tony and Ziva in the bull-pen.

Without warning, Ziva had grabbed onto the back of his chair and was talking into his ear. "I do not know _why_ McGee is covering for you, but he should not be. No matter how sick you are it is no excuse to make him late and not tell Gibbs it was your fault. Remember rule number 1?"

"Yeah, Ziva." Tony didn't look up from his work. Not that he was actually working; he could hardly concentrate on holding the pen in his hand.  
"Do you even know who killed our Marine from yesterday?" the ex-Mossad operative demanded.

"Yeah, it was the woman shunned, wasn't it?"

Ziva growled to herself. "Yes. Hell hath no fury like a woman shunned."

"It's scorned, Ziva," Tony corrected.

"What?"

"It's 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'"

"Whatever, it is basically the same thing." Ziva went back to her own desk.

Gibbs returned to the bull-pen a few minutes later and came to Tony's shoulder. "You're going to have to make it up to him, DiNozzo," Gibbs whispered knowingly into his ear.

"I know boss."

"Good. Go up to Abby's and tell him that the director needs to see him." Gibbs put a Caff-Pow into Tony's hands before sending him on his way.

Tony rode the elevator down to Abby's lab presenting her with the Caff-Pow as he entered. "Where's McGee? I need to see him," Tony asked as he followed Abby into her lab.

"He's in the back office," she offered, going back to the machine she had been using before.

Tony meandered into her back office, startling McGee when he leaned over his shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey," McGee responded in kind.

"You want to hang out tonight?" Tony offered hopefully.

"Sure, but not at your house again. I think the mess might make my brain explode."

"You cleaned up most of it while I was sleeping last night," Tony accused.

"No, I put things away and ran the dishwasher. You have about a month's worth of laundry that needs to be done, and there is something that is either mold or a new kind of organism growing in your sink." McGee sounded like just thinking about it made him feel a painful need to clean Tony's house.

"Fine, we'll hang at your place, McOCD. What is there to do at your apartment, anyways?"

"If you don't want to come over, then don't," McGee hissed at him.

"I was just kidding, Tim. I didn't mean to upset you." Tony waited for McGee to respond, but when nothing seemed forthcoming he was forced to continue speaking. "I was just teasing. Really. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, McGee."

McGee swiveled the chair around to face Tony. "'Don't apologize; it's a sign of weakness'. It's fine Tony, don't worry about it." He squeezed Tony's shoulder before turning back to the computer.

"Oh, Vance wants to see you." Tony remembered suddenly. "I almost forgot."

"Okay." McGee got up and headed for the elevator.

"Hey, McGee." The man in question stopped and turned back towards him. "Thanks for covering for me this morning." Tony walked over to him and kissed him quickly on the cheek, deciding that kissing him in front of Abby would be _too_ much.

McGee put a hand to Tony's face and smiled. "Don't worry about it."

Tony couldn't help it; he leaned forward the few inches to capture McGee's lips with his own. The junior agent hesitated at first, but seemed to decide that whatever he was worrying about wasn't all that important.

It was McGee that broke the kiss, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead on Tony's, smiling. "I'm not sure I would care if I _knew _you were only going to stay with me until I put out." At the look on Tony's face, McGee backtracked. "I don't think you are, it was just a hypothetical situation. I mean, like if you tried to kill me right now, I'd probably help."

McGee flashed Tony one last charming smile before leaving.

Tony's brain was working in overtime. He could _taste_ bile in his throat as a small part of his brain reminded him about how he wasn't good enough for Tim, and the opposing part of his brain reminded him about what was going to happen when people found out. He was utterly terrified, but he decided, somewhat poetically, that love was supposed to be terrifying, but if it could work out it was really worth the terror and the risk.


	7. Coming Out

Chapter Seven: Coming Out

Tony had excused himself to use the bathroom while watching a movie at McGee's house-Live and Let Die, to be exact-and had now been in there for several minutes, hoping McGee would forget that he was there. He couldn't exactly explain _why_ he was hiding, but he was sure that he wanted to stay that way. He was starting to think that asking McGee out was a bad idea. His brain was running rampant with all the ways it could go wrong, and he couldn't bring himself to leave the bathroom and face the fact that they might actually happen.

Unfortunately for Tony, McGee was one of those people that actually worried about you if you were gone for more than a few moments. "Tony, are you okay?" He could here McGee's eyebrows furrow as he spoke.

"Go away, Probie," Tony snapped, refusing to leave.

"Tony, why did you ask me out if you were going to hole yourself up in the bathroom the whole time? You know what? Nevermind. The food's here when you want it." McGee sounded more dejected than Tony had ever heard, which was saying something, considering the time that McGee shot the cop, but before Tony could think of anything to say, McGee had left.

Tony finally came back into the small living room to see McGee, who was holding chopsticks in one hand, the Chinese take-out box in the other, and was staring at the paused movie screen blankly. He looked like he was more likely to throw up what he'd eaten for lunch than actually consume his diner. As if to prove Tony right, McGee put down the box and leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
When Tony finally sat down next to the younger agent, McGee jerked himself upright and shook his head as if to clear it. He reached for the second box and handed it to Tony, along with a pair of chopsticks that he broke open for Tony with a smile. It made Tony's heart break to see the slight pain in McGee's eyes, even as the younger agent tried to hide it.

Tony stuck his chopsticks into the food and then dropped the box back onto the table, making McGee jump. "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to upset you, I'm just scared. I can't explain it...I-"

McGee cut him off. "Don't worry about it, Tony. I was just worried you were hurt and not telling me." The lie was apparent in McGee's voice, as was the implication that Tony _was_ hurt and not telling him, just in a different way than they'd been talking about.

Tony didn't have the nerve to call him on it and decided to change the subject. "So, what did Vance want this morning?" Tony picked up his Chinese.

McGee followed suit and shrugged. "Nothing important." McGee hit the play button on the remote, effectively ending the conversation.

When they finished their food, Tony took the trash and disappeared before returning and taking his medicine. After a while he laid his head on

McGee's shoulder and closed his eyes, telling himself that it was just for a moment.

When Tony awoke he found he was lying down on a bed smaller than his own, and it smelled like McGee, though the younger man was nowhere to be seen. He glanced over at the clock and saw that it read two in the morning. He almost decided that meant McGee was asleep, but then he noticed that there was a light coming in from under the door. Tony sat himself up and then almost reluctantly crawled out from under the covers.

He stumbled like a half-asleep child towards the door, and then down the hall to McGee's writing room, where he younger agent was typing away, unaware of Tony's presence.

"Tim?" Tony mumbled, causing McGee to jump.

The younger agent swiveled his chair to face Tony and smiled. "Hey there. Do you need anything?"

Tony blinked slowly. "It's cold."

McGee nodded, getting up and opening a hall closet that Tony had totally missed, pulling out an afghan and wrapping it around the shivering man in front of him. An arm was gently placed around Tony's shoulders and he was being led back to the bedroom, so gently he barely noticed he was moving until McGee was pulling the covers over him again.

"Wait," Tony called to McGee as the other man closed the door.

The door was pushed open again. "Hm?"

"Are we on call this weekend?" Tony asked, desperately searching for something to say that would make McGee stay in there with him.

"When aren't we?" McGee answered sadly.

"Is it Friday?"

"Saturday morning, actually," McGee answered slowly.

"Have you been to sleep yet? Because it's like two, and-"

"Tony," McGee interrupted suspiciously, raising an eyebrow, "do you want something?"

"Can you stay here please?" Tony responded, very quietly.

McGee smiled. "Sure, Tony. I'll be right back." McGee turned, leaving the door open.

Tony saw the lights go off across the hall. Some doors clicked shut, the locks on the front door turned, and then the bedroom door clicked shut. Tony couldn't see anything, but McGee wasn't next to him, and he wondered if he had misjudged McGee's ability to lie. The thought was interrupted when weight was added to the other side of the bed and an arm was wrapped around him.

"Jesus, Tony, how are you so cold," McGee chattered, rubbing a hand back and forth on Tony's arm through the afghan.

In response, Tony wiggled farther into McGee's warm embrace, pressing his freezing toes on McGee's shins. Tony grinned to himself in satisfaction as McGee shivered and tightened his grip around the older man.

McGee's breathing slowed and evened out against Tony's neck, signaling that the other agent had fallen asleep, but now Tony was awake, and he started talking very quietly, saying things he didn't have the courage to tell McGee when the other agent could hear him.

"Timmy, when I was in high school, there was this boy. He was kinda like you. He was nice and funny and smart, and he made me so happy all the time. We were dating—secretly because you know, I was a jock—am a jock—and you—he—was like a nerd. And he didn't mind much. But one day my dad found out and—and—" Tears silently slid off Tony's face onto McGee's arms. The other agent shifted closer to Tony in his sleep.

After a few minutes, Tony continued talking. "He was horrible. He yelled at me and hit me and locked me in my room for a week, only feeding me like once a day. It was during the summer, so no one knew, and when he finally let me out, this guy—his name was Jamie—just said some horrible things—said he never loved me—and then he left me, and—and I never saw him again." He started crying again.

McGee was stroking him slowly, trying to calm him down, but Tony didn't even really notice or care. "My dad said it served me right—that no son of his would—and I told him that I didn't care what he thought. And he said I did. And he was right. I did care. I do care. I-I don't want to, but all I can think is that maybe _he_ made Jamie leave, or maybe Jamie was right to leave me, or... and what if he makes you leave, or you find that I don't deserve you, because I don't, and...and..."

"Ssshhh..." McGee whispered into his ear. "Don't say such things, Tony. I'm not going anywhere." He continued comforting Tony until the other man had calmed down.

"When I was a kid, my parents loved me a lot, but when my dad first caught me kissing a guy, he freaked out and didn't talk to me for a week. He didn't tell anyone what had happened; I didn't even know he had seen it. Finally, he and my mom got in a huge argument, which ended in her saying something about _don't ask, don't tel__l _that I didn't understand and then storming out. She stayed the night at her friend's or something, and the next day my dad sat me down and apologized and tried to explain. In the end, I thought he actually _did_ hate me for like two years until I was going away to college and my mom told me something about her college years. Apparently she dated my aunt for like a year and my dad never knew or something."

Tony started crying again, this time harder than before. McGee gave him a tight squeeze and then whispered in his ear. "When my dad told the other kid's dad, I didn't see him for a week, and when I did see him he told me he was not allowed to see me. I told him he was full of crap, and refused to let him break up with me for such a stupid reason. What I didn't find out until later was that my dad had basically yelled his head off at the guy I was seeing—Tom—after I stood up to the jerk and got slugged for my trouble. Tom's dad got pissed and beat me up. My dad was his CO, and he was given a dishonorable discharge."

Through his tears, Tony demanded angrily, "Why are you telling me this, McGee?"

"Because I don't care what your dad or anyone thinks, I'm not going to leave you, especially not for something stupid. I don't care if I alienate everyone, that's no reason to hurt you. I love you, DiNozzo." McGee kissed him on the temple gently and then tightened his grip around the other man.

"Why'd you pretend to be asleep?"

"I didn't. I woke up as soon as you started talking, but you didn't even notice." McGee snuggled close to him.

"Oh," Tony mumbled sleepily. "What if my dad kills you?"

McGee chuckled at that. "I wouldn't worry about that, Tony."

"That sounds ominous." Tony was barely clinging to consciousness.

"It is," McGee whispered. Tony clung to McGee's hands as he fell asleep, refusing to let go.


	8. Running, Cleaning, and Eating

Chapter Eight: Running, Cleaning, and Eating

Tony awoke to a slobbery tongue being swiped across his face. His first thought was 'why the hell is McGee licking me?', and his second was, 'wait, that's not McGee. What the fuck...?'

Then he heard and angry whisper. "Jethro! Tony is trying to sleep. Come over here! Jethro." Tony heard McGee growl, and then the huge dog was pulled away from him. There was a click as the leash was attached to Jethro's collar.

"Timmy?" Tony asked, opening his eyes to a squint.

"Go back to sleep, DiNozzo. I'm just going for a run with Jethro. He's rambunctious this early in the morning, sorry. I'll try to keep him out of here in the future, but he can open doors, I tell you." There was an edge of laughter to McGee's voice.

Tony grumbled and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Can I go with you, McGee?" he asked, sitting up as he did.

McGee sighed. "I guess since you're up now you might as well. Jethro, sit. Stay." McGee disappeared into his closet.

As soon as McGee was out of sight, Jethro jumped onto the bed and started assaulting Tony with love again. When McGee reappeared holding a pair of running shorts and a shirt to find Jethro had knocked Tony over, he growled in such a manner that Jethro jumped down and lay at McGee's feet, whimpering. McGee shook his head.

"Here, Tony." McGee chucked the clothing at his fellow field agent. "I'm so sorry about Jethro. He's just excited because Abby is coming over today to play with him. And he's apparently decided that despite all appearances, you _must_ be Abby. Because who else is in my apartment on Saturdays?"

"More like who else shares your bed on Friday nights," Tony grumbled to himself.

McGee flinched. "I hope you realize that Abby and I haven't been together since I became a probie. Jethro doesn't even know about that."

Tony managed to fight off the urge to snap 'What about Mexico?' but only just. Tony got off the bed and started to pull the clothes McGee had given him, only to find that they _actually fit_ which was weird, considering McGee.

Tony looked up at McGee and smiled, distinctly not asking why the younger agent had clothes his size. However, his probie had apparently developed telepathy in addition to ninja skills since Tony'd been shot.

"Tony, those are _your_ clothes. I went to your house and got them last night while you were sleeping." As if to emphasize the point, McGee dropped Tony's running shoes on the senior field agent's lap. As Tony put his shoes on, McGee shifted from one foot to the other impatiently.

"Well, McHippocrit, look who's the impatient one now," Tony accused lightly.

McGee stopped, as if he had just realized what he was doing. "Oh, sorry, Tony. We just slept in later than I usually do. I'm usually back by now."  
Tony's cheeks colored slightly at the thought of McGee being so much more active than he was. He wondered silently if McGee was actually better at this field agent thing than he was.

Tony started walking for the door, leading the way out of the apartment. "Why is it you have a key to my apartment, but I don't have a key to yours?" Tony asked, as McGee locked the door behind them.

"What? Oh. Tony, I have family that lives near here. But I'll get you a key by Monday, if you want." McGee answered fluidly, starting a slow jog around his usual path.

As Tony sped up, McGee followed suit, being careful not to push the other agent very hard. Tony decided to psych McGee out, and go for an all-out sprint down the street. As he pulled ahead, he felt a sense of victory until his gut violently objected and he almost fell to the ground. McGee grabbed Tony around the waist, forcing the other agent to stand upright

Tony's head began to spin, and he felt like he might vomit, but McGee wouldn't let him bend over to do so. "Hold still, Tony, or you're going to hurt yourself more than you already are." Jethro was pacing around them, his leash pinning their legs tightly together.

"McGee, I'm going to hurl on you," Tony threatened, his stomach rebelling against the pain.

"Nope," the younger agent predicted, and was in short order proven right as Tony's vision righted itself.

"What are you, a fortune teller?" Tony demanded, shifting his weight back to his own feet.

"No, I'm just really, really good." McGee grinned. He lost his grin as he looked down at his feet. "Jethro! What have you done?" The dog immediately began unwinding itself so that the two agents were no longer trapped.

"Okay, McDogWhisperer, ready to go?"

"Just don't push yourself to hard Tony. How am I supposed to explain to Gibbs that his surrogate son hurt himself running with me first thing in the morning after spending the night?" McGee teased, starting them off at a gentle pace again. Tony followed McGee's pace the entire way around the block.

As McGee unlocked the door, Tony realized that the younger agent wasn't breathing as hard as he was, and that Jethro was still as riled up as before. He cringed when he realized that he must have been dragging on McGee's usual speed. "Sorry...Probie...didn't mean to...slow you down."

McGee looked up. "Don't worry about it. It's no big deal. Jethro and I ran with Abby once, and _that_ was a disaster. Jethro decided Abby was a rabbit, and it all went downhill from there."

The thought of Abby being mistaken for a bunny made Tony laugh along with McGee at the story as they reentered McGee's flat.

"Tony, you can go ahead and take a shower if you want, I'll make something for breakfast."

"Are you sure, Tim? I feel like I've been imposing on you since I came over after work last night..." Tony trailed off sadly.

"Tony." McGee refused to continue until the other man met his eyes. "You are _never_ imposing on me. Never. I'm glad you're here. Don't think like that." McGee smiled at him. "Now go take a shower or I'll give you one myself—and it won't be as hot as you're thinking, you perv." McGee shoved Tony playfully towards the bathroom. "Towels are in the closet."

Tony got into the bathroom and closed the door behind him before peeling off his sweaty running clothes. He thought lamely that even being injured couldn't have caused him to be that much slower than McGee. No wonder McGee had lost weight; he must have been running a lot to have that much stamina. Tony chuckled to himself as he turned on the water. That much stamina...

Warm water cascaded down Tony's back, driving all the sweat down his back. He stood there for a few moments before opening his eyes to look for soap. His own body wash was sitting on the edge of the tub, almost mocking him. He was starting to worry that McGee was stalking him, but then he realized that McGee had something definitively more feminine sitting next to it, and so had probably brought Tony's when he picked up the clothes last night. Weird, but less creepy. At least now he had something to make fun of McGee with when he sat down for breakfast.

Tony turned off the water and stepped into the slightly less steamy room. He searched through the closet for a towel and pulled out a soft green one that he used to dry off. It suddenly dawned on him that all of his clothes were across the apartment in McGee's bedroom. "Probie!"

There was a thumping noise, and then he heard McGee outside the door. "What is it, Tony?"

"All my clothes are across the apartment," Tony growled.

"...So go get them?" McGee suggested dumbly.

"McGee, I'm naked!"

"Then get a towel."

"McGee!" There was no response."Ugh, McGee! Since when are you such a creep? You break into my house three times in a row, and now you insist that I streak across your apartment for your own enjoyment."

"Tony, just open the door," McGee sighed. Tony heard him walk back to the kitchen.

Tony opened the door a crack and saw that a duffel bag was on the ground outside the door. It suddenly dawned on Tony that McGee had been pulling his leg, and he shook his head. He grabbed the bag and closed the bathroom door.

Tony emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in a nice looking semi-tight, green shirt and black jeans. As soon as he was in the main area, Tony smelled vanilla. "Mmm, what is that smell, McChef?"

McGee came out of the kitchen holding two plates of waffles, and wearing a smile. "Ta-da." He handed a plate to Tony and led the way to the couch in his living room. McGee sat down, his eyes flicking up and down Tony's form almost imperceptibly.

Tony sat down next to him with a signature grin. "Well, glad you approve, Tim. If I didn't know better I would say you picked this outfit just for that reason."

McGee grinned. "I wouldn't say that you do know better, Tony. I mean, why else would I pick out an outfit for you?"

Tony shook his head. "When did you see me in this? Last year? Two years ago?"

"Stop guessing," McGee suggested. "The actual answer will just make me seem like a stalker."

"What, are you following me on my dates?" Tony demanded.

McGee looked at his feet. "Only the one time, and Gibbs made me do it! He thought she was trying to drug you. And she _was_ by the way."

"Wait, that date? Jesus, McGee. That was last month!"

"Well, yeah..."

Tony finished his waffles and bumped into McGee playfully. "Don't worry about it. I knew Gibbs sent somebody. I just figured it was Ziva." Tony took McGee's plate and headed for the kitchen. "Now go take a shower, McSmelly."

"Sure, Tony." McGee shook his head in mirth before heading for the shower.

Tony smiled and debated sneaking into the bathroom and stealing all of the towels, but decided that would be a bit too shifty. After all, he had just thrown a fit over McGee not giving him his clothes.


	9. Play Time

Chapter Nine: Play Time

Abby arrived, in all her gothic glory, while McGee was still in the shower, leaving Tony in the rather awkward position of having to let her into the younger agents house. He flashed her a grin as he opened the front door. "Morning, Abby."

A sly smile crossed Abby's face. "Good morning, Tony!" She enveloped him in a violent hug. "What are you doing here on a Saturday morning? Did you and Timmy-"

Tony was saved from the question-he was pretty sure it was about to end with "get it on last night"-when McGee emerged from the bathroom, covered only by a towel. Seeing Abby and Tony sitting in his living room, McGee yelped and rushed back into the bathroom, slamming the door closed.

McGee's muffled voice sounded from behind the door. "Turn around or something!"

"Are you serious, McPrude? You knew I was here and you still didn't bother getting clothes before you went into the bathroom?"

"Shut up, Tony! I wasn't thinking."

"McGee!" Abby snapped. "I've seen you in less than that, and Tony's at least seen you shirtless before. I would have thought-"

Tony clamped a hand over Abby's mouth and turned them around. "Go ahead, Tim." Tony was blushing bright red despite himself.

The bathroom door slowly creaked open, and then there were rushed footsteps across the hall to the bedroom before the door clicked closed and Tony released Abby.

Abby turned to him. "You've slept with more people than the rest of us combined, and you're _blushing_ at the thought of seeing McGee naked, Tony?"

Tony shook his head and looked away. "Shut up, Abby," he muttered, almost to indistinct for Abby to hear.

Abby punched him in the arm. "Don't tell _me _to shut up, Tony." At the look on Tony's face, Abby sighed and gave him another hug. "I'm sorry, Tony. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't worry about it, Abs. Just don't..." Tony found he couldn't finish the sentence.

"I'm sorry," Abby repeated. "Tony, I didn't mean that you-"

McGee entered, interrupting Abby's words. "Sorry." He flushed again, running his fingers through his hair. "Ready to go to the park?"

Abby turned to him, grinning. "Am I ever! Where is Jethro?"

As if he had heard her speaking, the dog in question ran over and almost knocked Abby over. Tony's fast reflexes kept her upright until she knelt down to Jethro-level. "Ready to go to the park, boy?" Abby asked.

In response, Jethro barked happily and licked her face. Abby giggled and ruffled his fur.

McGee hooked Jethro's leash to his collar, and led him to the door, giving Abby a hand up in the process. Abby followed them to the door, but Tony hesitated, unsure of whether he was intruding on their time.

McGee handed Abby Jethro's leash at the door and turned to Tony. "Are you coming or not, Tony? Jethro really likes you."

It was the closest thing to an invitation that Tony was going to get, so he rushed towards the door after McGee, who locked it up before unlocking the car. Tony climbed into the front seat while Abby clambered into the back with Jethro, who was happily barking at her. It sounded almost conversational, and the fact that Abby was talking back to him made Tony worry. He glanced over at McGee, who just shook his head dismissively. Apparently, this was normal.

At the park, Tony sat in the shade under a tree, watching McGee and Abby throw a Frisbee back and forth while Jethro tried and-more often than not-succeeded at getting the Frisbee away from one of them and then refused to give it back for several minutes, causing both of them to chase after him like children until he turned around and dropped it at one of their feet.

The seventh time Jethro got the Frisbee, he ran right over to Tony and dropped the Frisbee on his feet before starting to lick his face. "Ugh, Jethro, come on. No licking!" Tony halfheartedly tried to fight the dog off before taking the Frisbee and standing up. Jethro started running in circles around him until Tony finally threw the Frisbee to McGee. It turned out that Tony was far better at Frisbee than either of his coworkers and was forced to stay in the game, not that he was going to complain.

Tony moved for a particularly bad throw that Jethro was running full force for, and the big dog ended up colliding into Tony right at the gut, knocking the Senior Field Agent over.

Tony started coughing painfully, and Jethro immediately stood up and started pacing around him regretfully as Tony rolled onto his side.

McGee appeared next to him, Abby close behind. "Tony, are you okay?"

Tony nodded, and sat up with a little help from McGee. Pain was roaring in his ears, but he was thankful for the first time that Ducky had insisted he start taking the pain medicine the last few days. He was off it now, but a few nights sleep seemed to have significantly improved his condition.

After a few moments trying to catch his breath, Tony nodded again. "I'm fine McGee. Just a little winded." Abby was trying to cheer Jethro up, and Tony felt bad for upsetting the dog-for some reason he may never be able to explain.

"Let me look at it, Tony," McGee said softly. He reached for Tony's shirt, but was stopped by Tony grabbing his wrist. McGee looked up at him, looking slightly pained.

Tony shook his head, and dropped McGee's wrist, yanking his shirt over his head. McGee winced, much as Tony had expected, but lightly felt the wound, watching Tony for a response. When Tony only winced a little where McGee was feeling, McGee pulled his hands back. Tony yanked his shirt back over his head, and then put out a hand so McGee could help him back to his feet.

Tony had a slight head-rush when he stood up, but then was more or less back to normal. He walked over to Jethro and mussed up the dog's fur. Jethro looked up at Tony's smiling face, and barked cheerfully. Then the dog grabbed the Frisbee off the ground and took off running. Tony shook his head, but ran after him, careful not to push himself too hard. Finally Jethro ran up to him, dropped the Frisbee at his feet and ran towards Abby.

Tony grabbed the Frisbee and flung it towards McGee. The disk floated across the distance perfectly. McGee's phone went off, and he answered it instead of catching the Frisbee.

"McGe-Ow!" McGee groaned as the Frisbee hit him in the hand and he dropped the phone.

Picking it up, McGee tried again. "McGee. ... Yeah, boss. ... Yeah. ... What do you mean the three of us? ... Yes, boss. Sorry, boss. ...it's a sign of weakness, I know. ... Yeah, boss. ... Bye." McGee furrowed his brows as he flicked his phone shut and turned towards Abby and Tony. "The boss says we have to head in. Ziva ran into a small Isreali girl who says she found a dead sailor."

"What?" Tony spluttered. "Why would she tell Ziva?"

McGee shook his head. "She's here with her aunt and uncle for the summer. They're American, and I think the dead sailor might be her uncle. Gibbs wasn't very clear."

Tony nodded and collected Jethro. "Okay, we drop Jethro off at your place and then head straight to the scene."

McGee shook his head. "No, we go to NCIS. Gibbs didn't say why."

McGee took Jethro from Tony's hands and lead the way back to the car. The drive to McGee's house and then NCIS was silent. No one was sure quite what to say.


	10. Where in the World is Timothy McGee?

Chapter Ten: Where in the world is Timothy McGee?

McGee and Abby had gone straight up to Abby's lab to work on something, leaving Tony, Ziva, and Gibbs with the little Israeli girl, who-it turned out-didn't speak a lick of English, forcing Ziva into the role of translator. Ziva took the little girl to a conference room upstairs while Tony started investigating the girl's uncle. It turned out that her aunt had gone missing too, which further confused the situation. The case felt more like an international issue than a naval one, much like the La Grenouille case. Tony cringed at the memory of his shattered relationship with Jeanne.

McGee chose that moment to return to the bull-pen, filling Tony with guilt. However, his stay was short lived, as Vance called him upstairs, much to Gibbs' chagrin.

A few moments later, Gibbs took Tony away to go investigate the house where the little girl had witnessed the murder of the navy lieutenant.

A fifteen minute drive later, the two were met with the grizzly, bloody mess that was the house of Lieutenant Adi Shalit and his wife, Ora. The lieutenant's body was mangled beyond recognition, and Ducky said that they would need to do a DNA test, just to be sure that it was Lieutenant Shalit.

The place was a mess, which Ducky, once he and Palmer had finally arrived, claimed indicated a crime of passion, but the fact that his wife had been abducted muddied up the waters quite a bit.

After several minutes of searching, Tony found a knife in the kitchen sink that seemed to have been hastily rinsed off. Hoping that the knife would still have a print, Tony bagged and tagged it, along with several samplings of blood from different parts of the room, hoping to find some of the killers DNA along with the Lieutenants. Once all the photographs were taken and the evidence was bagged and tagged, Gibbs and Tony left, leaving Ducky and Palmer to navigate the bloody, mangled corpse.

Back at the agency, Gibbs took the evidence down to Abby while Tony went up to do a sketch of the crime scene. Gibbs exited the elevator fifteen minutes later while Tony was going through pictures on the plasma, trying to figure out what had happened.

When Gibbs appeared over Tony's shoulder, the younger agent clicked a button to go back to the beginning of the slide show. "It looks like the bad guy was let into the house, and after some sort of argument here," an image of the kitchen "they got into a physical confrontation. The neighbors confirmed that there were two males yelling and fighting in the house-one of which was definitely the lieutenant. The perp than took this knife" he clicked a button "out of the block and assaulted Shalit. They moved into the room where we found Shalit's body." A picture of the living room. "That is where Shalit was killed. But it doesn't make sense. If there was just a fight, how is there so much damage to the body? And how did Shalit fight him off so long unarmed?"

Gibbs nodded. "Good question, DiNozzo. Why don't you find me an answer?"

"On it, boss."

"And where the hell is McGee?" Gibbs added, annoyed.

"Last I saw he was called up by the director," Tony responded, fighting the urge to say 'Good question, Gibbs. Why don't you find me an answer?'

Gibbs stormed up to the director's office as Tony started making phone calls. After the fifth fruitless call, Tony went up to Ziva to ask the girl about what had happened.

It turned out that the _Shalit_ was the one who had used the knife in the sink, which made _absolutely_ no sense. The girl said the other man had a switchblade and a gun and had shot her uncle after slicing him up, but Tony hadn't found and shell casings at the crime scene. He furrowed his brow and walked down to see Ducky, thinking he might have the answer.

Ducky had little more to tell Tony. His autopsy was as yet incomplete, but he confirmed that Shalit had been shot. Tony rode the elevator back up to the bull-pen and started shuffling through the crime scene photos again. Gibbs reentered the bull-pen alone, saying nothing about McGee. "What have you got, DiNozzo?"

"Not much more, boss," Tony began hesitantly. "The girl says that the lieutenant was the one using the kitchen knife, and that the other guy also had a gun. Ducky confirmed. She and Ziva are talking to an artist now. I don't get, though. Why wash off the knife? It doesn't make sense."

"It does if he was trying to get rid of the DNA evidence. The lieutenant must have got him," Gibbs contradicted.

Tony nodded. "I guess, but where's the blood trail to the car? Where's the shell casing? For that matter, where's the wife? It just isn't adding up."

"Go back and look for them, DiNozzo. Don't come back until you have both, or at least an explanation."

"On it, boss." Tony grabbed his gear and headed down the elevator to his car.

Outside the house, Tony spent an entire hour looking for some sort of blood trail, to no avail. He finally gave up and went inside to look at the shell casing.

Which, it seemed, was also nowhere to be found. Tony finally saw something-after an hour and a half of looking-that saved him. There was a blood splatter on the side of the room, near the stairs, where the lieutenant must have been shot. There, amidst the blood, was a copper colored shell casing and a spot of blood that Tony chose to take a sample from.

Re-exiting the house Tony noticed that the red flowers in front of the house were slightly trampled. The trampling was parallel to the front of the house, and he found the blood out front of the neighbor's house and took several samples or that, as well as whatever he could find from the flower patch. He photographed all of it, including the skid marks in the neighbor's driveway.

That particular neighbor had been out of town for the last week, and would remain out of town for another yet. However, he was the closest with the late lieutenant, and Tony had tried calling his cell several times but got no answer. He groaned in mild frustration before driving back to work and presenting Abby with the evidence. Abby gave him a hug and told him to send McGee down to help her with the lieutenant's computer. Tony grinned at her and then went upstairs to find McGee.

Tony didn't see McGee up there, and so asked Gibbs, "Hey, where's McGee? Ab-"

Gibbs glared up at him. "McGee's busy helping Vance. You can do whatever needs to be done yourself, DiNozzo."

"Right, boss." Tony went to make another phone call as Gibbs went down to see Abby and Ducky.

He was once again sent straight to voicemail on the neighbor's cell.

"Mr. Thomas, this is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo from NCIS again. I am calling regaurding an ongoing investigation. You need to call me back as soon as you get this. You can just call back to this number." Tony hung up again and growled in frustration.

He went back to researching the lieutenant's regiment for another hour, before going up to visit Ziva and the child again. Sarah-that was the girl's name-said the neighbors came over Saturday for poker night. She didn't have any more information on the missing neighbor.

Tony went back down to the bull-pen, and asked Gibbs if he could pick him up anything for dinner. And Gibbs, predictably, said that no one was going to eat until they found the lieutenants wife. After a good dope-slap, Tony went back to calling anyone who ever met the lieutenant or his wife. Nothing.

An hour had passed, no information was forth coming, and Gibbs had disappeared to see Abby again. Tony finally threw a copy of Deep Six and yelled, "Where the fuck are you, McGee? I can't do all this computer stuff!"

His only response was a snicker from someone in another cubical. He threw a paper wad in that general direction, but judging by the resounding laughter, he didn't think he'd hit the culprit.


	11. Red Light

_AN: On some level I feel I should appologize for this chapter, but I won't. For one, apologies are a sign of weakness, but more importantly, I really like this chapter. There really just isn't all that much to be sorry for._

Chapter Eleven: Red Light

McGee finally reentered the bull-pen as Tony received a phone call from Thomas, so he just glared at McGee as he entered. McGee saw that his entire area was torn to shreds and turned to glare at Tony, but Gibbs told him to go get them all food, at which Tony scowled at him harder.

"Mr. Thomas, this call is regarding your neighbor, Lieutenant Shalit."

_Of course it is. Why else would Navy cops be calling me? Has something happened to him? Or is he just in some sort of trouble? Because I can garuntee you that Lieutenant Shalit was not involved in any sort of crime, Special Agent DiNozzo. I'd swear my life on it._

"Actually, sir, Lieutenant Shalit has been murdered, and his wife has been kidnapped. Any information you could give us on anyone with-"

_Ora's been kidnapped? You have to find her, DiNozzo!_

"Mr. Thomas, we are using all our resources to find her, but I really need you to tell me-"

_I can't believe it... Adi's dead...and Ora...I...I...Is there _anything_ I can do to help you, Mr. DiNozzo? I'll do anything you need me to do. Do you need me to come back to DC? I can catch the next flight out of Vancouver..._

"What you can do to help is tell me if either Lieutenant or Mrs. Shalit had any enemies, or anyone who might have been angry at one or both of them. And it probably would be in your best interests to come back to DC."

_Ora's ex might have been angry at one or both of them-they were nuptials, just married three months ago, you know? Their little niece is the cutest thing... She came to America early to be their flower girl for their wedding... I'll get the next flight in, Mr. DiNozzo._

"Can you tell me the name of her ex, Mr. Thomas?"

_I think it was Yedidah-Jedidah?-Mahamud or Malimud or something like that. I never really new anything about him, except I helped Adi kick him of the property once. He was extremely angry._

"Okay, Mr. Thomas, I'll send someone to pick you up from your house when you call to tell us that you're home, okay?" Tony was trying very hard not to sound angry at the man's constant reminiscing.

_Okay, Mr. DiNozzo. Thank you. Goodbye._

"Thank you, sir. Bye." Tony hung up the phone and groaned. He turned to Gibbs, who had disappeared somewhere. Tony groaned and decided to ask Ziva to help him figure out the actual name of the woman's ex.

Tony knocked on the door to the conference room before poking his head in. "Ziva, I need you to help me decifer the name the neighbor tried to give me. He said it was like Yedidah or Jedidah. And the last name was Mohamed or Malim-"

The little girl spoke up. "Yedidah Malamud?" Tony nodded and the little girl turned to speak to Ziva in rapid Hebrew.

After several minutes, Ziva turned to Tony. "Yedidah Malamud-spelled J-E-D-I-D-A-H M-A-L-A-M-U-D." Tony wrote it done. Ziva made a fave and leaned in to whisper in Tony's ear. "Arava says he was a man that they were not on good terms with. She did not get a look at the attacker, she ran and hid in her room. She says that he drove the same kind of car that Jedidah did. She thinks it might have been him." Tony nodded and started to leave, Ziva followed him out of the conference room and closed the door. "Tony, Jedidah Malamud is and Israeli ambassador. I neeed to-"

"Need to what, Ziva?" Gibbs asked coming around the corner holding a coffee and a hot chocolate.

"I need to speak with my Israeli contacts. Our prime suspect is an Israeli ambassador, Gibbs." Ziva explained, looking back at the conference room hesitantly.

"Do that, I'll take over from here. I speak a little Hebrew." Tony staved of the urge to raise his eyebrow skeptically. He and Ziva headed down to the bull-pen to do more research. Tony looked stuff up online and Ziva started making phone calls.

After several phone calls, Ziva tried to get onto her computer and growled. "What do you mean you are installing updates? I do not have two hours! Do it later!" She continued hitting keys for several moments before going over to McGee's space, and shoving the mess that Tony had made onto the floor. She turned on the computer and glanced at Tony.

"Password's capital E, capital L 288493." Ziva nodded and typed it in, just as Tony remembered what he and Abby had done to McGee's computer. He turned to stop Ziva, but it was too late-

"What is this? This is not going to-Why does McGee's computer say, 'NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee: Best Selling Author, Computer Nerd, Online Gamer, Great Kisser'?" Ziva demanded as McGee exited the elevator carrying two bags of food.

"It says _what?_" McGee screeched, running across the room and dropping the food on Tony's desk, and shoving Ziva out of the way to start attacking the hack. After a frantic minute of typing, McGee turned to glare at Tony. "You got Abby to help you. What the hell?"

"First of all, you were gone all day, second I didn't anticipate Ziva using your computer."

"You told me the password!" Ziva accused.

"Yeah, well...I wasn't thinking at the time. Sorry. I really didn't mean for that to...it doesn't mean anything," Tony assured Ziva.

McGee snorted and snatched the food off Tony's desk, handing Ziva her sub and putting Gibbs' on his desk, opening his own and starting to eat it.

"Yeah, right, Tony," Ziva said skeptically, starting to eat her sub. "I was the one you called the first night you were out of the hospital. 'What? You're not McGee. I have to-"

"Shut up, Ziva!" Tony snapped, food forgotten. He threw his stress ball at her as he said it.

Ziva started laughing, but stopped talking.

McGee turned to Tony and crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "You have to what, Tony?" he demanded, raising an eyebrow.

Tony glared at Ziva. "I have to find this kidnapper before I eat. Gibbs told me so." He turned back to his computer and started cycling through stuff again. The fax machine went off, and Tony ran over and took the warrant that had just printed. "Ha! I have a warrant to search his house. Abby matched his fingerprints to the knife and the second blood type is also his. I'm going to go tell Gibbs." Tony ran up the stairs to the conference room.

"Boss, we've a warrant to search the bastards house. And another for his arrest is printing now."

Gibbs looked at him. "Go get him, DiNozzo. Take McGee and Ziva with you."

"On it, boss."

Tony rushed back down the stairs and collected Ziva and McGee on his way down to the car. All thoughts of food were forgotten from all three agents' minds as they rushed to Malamud's house, hoping for the best.

The house seemed deserted, but they found Ora Shalit, bound, gagged, and unconscious-but alive. They called paramedics, and woke her up. Twenty minutes of talking later, the paramedics were there and she was taken away. They got in the car and McGee started the drive back to the agency and their dinner.

As usual, Tony spent the first half of the drive mocking McGee, trying to make him second-guess himself because he knew how little McGee liked driving, even now. Also as usual, once McGee actually braked at a green light, nearly causing an accident, Tony stopped and apologized profusely, thought this only caused McGee to glare at him and pronounce that Tony was _never_ coming to his house ever again.

Tony continued to apologize through the next half of the drive, while Ziva giggled quietly in the back seat. After sitting at a red light for a few minutes McGee yelled at Tony, "Why does it matter anyway? All you ever do at other people's apartments is-" He was cut off as they drove through the intersection and were slammed into on the side. The side of the car dented into McGee's side, causing a sickening crunch, and the car only barely stayed upright. The air bag slammed into Tony full-force, causing his vision to temporarily go black with pain. As soon as his vision came back he started to struggle to move and help McGee.

"Probie? God no, Tim. No." Tony thought the worst for one painful moment before he saw McGee's shallow breathe and his eyes twitch. "I'm sorry, McGee I didn't..."

Ziva had gotten out of the car, and now called to him. "Tony. Tony! Are you alright?" Turning, he saw Ziva's face at his window. She was trying to open the door, but it was locked, so Tony opened it.

"I'm fine, Ziva, It's Tim who's..." His voice trailed off and he turned back to his partner. He gently reached out a hand and traced his fingers across McGee's jaw. "Com'on, McGee. You have to wake up. McGee."

There was a noise outside the car, and Ziva jumped, drawing her gun and pointing it at something Tony couldn't see. "Federal agents, freeze." There was a single gunshot from the direction Ziva faced. She moved as a bullet impacted her shoulder, but managed to fire of three rounds in return before she dropped her gun. She stumbled forward into the car. "Got him," she breathed into Tony's ear as she fell.

"Ziva, don't do this to me! You've got to stay awake. Ziva. Ziva!" Tony screamed.


	12. Waiting

Chapter Twelve: Waiting

Tony stared across the waiting room at Gibbs, his head throbbing and several stitches in his arms and forehead from the broken glass, but otherwise unharmed. Abby was crying into Tony's shoulder. Even holding her, Tony was so numb he couldn't feel. Ziva and Tim were in emergency surgery, and the man that had shot Ziva was on a slab. He assumed the man was Jedidah, but he couldn't know for sure, the man's face was so badly mangled.

Tony couldn't feel anything, and the emptiness made him feel antsy-like he should run a marathon. It also made him hate himself a little. He always pretended not to care, but he did care. He always felt the pain. When Cassidy and her team were blown up, when Gibbs was blown up, when he lost Jeanne... he _felt_ the pain then. Even if he tried not to show it. But now, when he should have been in pain, in the one instance when he could have cried, he could have felt, he could have hurt, and no one would have judged him, he was numb and unfeeling. Like he didn't care, even though he did.

And that feeling was probably worse than anything he'd ever felt before.

Tony felt that his mind couldn't just accept what had happened. He wanted to pinch himself to wake up, but he knew it wouldn't help. All he could do was hold Abby, stare at Gibbs, and listen to the quiet mumblings between Palmer and Ducky, pretending that they weren't talking about his partners that they weren't considering their chances of survival.

Because if they only had a _chance_ of survival, that meant they could die. Were dying. That two of the only people that he cared about in the entire world were dying _right now_ and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't even sad or upset or angry or anything. He was just numb.

Vance finally appeared, and after a hushed conversation with Ducky he collected Tony and they went for a walk, leaving Abby with Gibbs, who was far better than Tony at making her feel better anyways.

Vance was not someone to beat around the bush. "How is it that you were barely _scratched_, in the collision and fight, when both of your partners are _dying_?"

Tony didn't have an answer he just kept walking. He couldn't find the words to explain it to Vance.

Vance stopped and forced Tony to meet his eyes. "Do you even care? Everyone always said it was just an act, DiNozzo, yet here you are, sitting there, holding Abby, and not looking even mildly fazed. Do you even care about these people? Because either one of them would go to hell and back for you, and you don't seem to give a _damn_ that they're dying."

Something in Tony finally clicked at the director's last words, and without even considering the repercussions, Tony's fist flew across the small space between him and Director Vance, knocking the older man to the floor. "How can you even suggest that I don't care? Ziva was shot because I thought Tim was dead and wasn't paying attention. It's my fault. How could I not care?"

Tony stormed off and locked himself into one of the bathroom stalls, tears falling slowly and silently down his face. Tim was dying. Tim might never even wake up. That's what Ducky had said. And Ziva-no vital organs were hit by the shot, just her shoulder. She would probably make it...she would just need time to recover and physical therapy. She would recover so she could tell Tony that it was his fault. Because it was, and he was sure everyone knew it. Tim was...so angry with him he wasn't paying attention. They had been goofing off-_Tony_ had been goofing off, and so no one noticed they were being followed. No one was prepared to be hit. And he could have stopped it. He could have just been nice to Tim for once, and none of this would have happened. _He had known this would happen. He had known and he hadn't done anything to stop it._

Tony slammed his fist into the wall, and ignored the pain and the blood trickling down his hand. He _knew_ something would happen to Tim if they dated, and he had asked the younger agent out anyways. It was even against Gibbs' rules and company policy. Why had he done it? Why had he ever been so selfish? He punched the wall again.

He heard the bathroom door open and close but totally ignored it until he heard Gibbs' voice. "DiNozzo! What are you doing? Get out here."

Some part of Tony snapped again. "No. Go away."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs growled in warning. "This is not your fault. I don't know what ridiculous scenario you have concocted in that thick skull of yours, but it isn't your fault. You didn't cause the accident, you didn't shoot Ziva, and no matter what you think, there is no way in hell that dating anyone could have karmic-ly caused this. Now open that door before I have to break it."

Tony reluctantly unlocked the door and pushed it open. Gibbs promptly head -slapped him, but then softened his demeanor and whispered in his ear, "Ziva's out of surgery. She's awake and'll be allowed visitors in about half an hour." Gibbs' paused and straightened up. "McGee's out of surgery, too. But he isn't awake. Ducky can probably take you to see him now, but he's in ICU. You won't be allowed in the room, but you can at least see him." Gibbs exited the bathroom, and after washing his face up a bit, Tony followed.

The waiting room was still quiet. Abby had stopped crying and as soon as she saw Tony she gave him a huge hug. Afterwards, several moments passed where everyone stood awkwardly, staring at either each other or the floor, before Ducky finally offered to take Tony to see Tim. They walked through the darkened halls of the ICU in a companionable but tense silence.

Tony was not allowed to go into the room, but Tim was unconscious so it didn't really matter. Tony stared through the window at Tim and the machines hooked up to him. He had no idea what the numbers on those machines meant about his partner...his boyfriend. He didn't know what was good or what was bad. He didn't know a lot of things. But he knew that Tim should be awake. Tim wasn't, and the thought that he never would be was killing Tony. He'd been so angry...why?

They'd just been screwing around, it wasn't serious. They didn't mean it. Not Tony, not Ziva, no one. It was just how they were. They teased and had casual banter. But no one ever _meant_ any of it. He hadn't meant it. Then why had he said it? Tim...Oh god, Tim. If he didn't wake up... If he... The last thing he would have said... The last thing _Tim_ would have said...

The thoughts were whirring through Tony's mind so fast it was making him sick. All he could think was that he was a horrible person. How could he let this happen? He should have been paying attention. He should have done _something._ He should have... He could have... Regardless of what Gibbs had said, Tony couldn't breathe. No. It couldn't... He couldn't...

He felt a gentle hand on his back and turned to see Ducky touching his shoulder. "Timothy will be fine, Anthony. He has a severe concussion, but he will be fine. This is no one's fault but the man in my autopsy room. I promise you, Anthony, Timothy would not have wanted you to be so twisted up over it. He would want you to relax and to see Ziva."

Tony nodded emptily and let Ducky lead him towards Ziva's room without complaint or thought. He couldn't think. He could hardly breathe.

_AN:__ I__f__ I get 20 reviews before the next scheduled update the chapter will be put up as soon as I receive the 20th one._


	13. This Could Conceivably Be Hell

Chapter Thirteen: This Could Conceivably Be Hell

_AN: This story has been-and will remain to be-from Tony's point of view. This chapter is the only one that is from Tim's, thus far, and if there are more they will be few and far between. As this chapter is from Tim's point of view it is pretty short. However, it is important to the story line, and while it could be left out, the story wouldn't flow right. I'll post another chapter tomorrow to make up for the shortness._

The car slammed into the vehicle just as Tim realized it was running the light. He didn't have time to swerve or brace himself before the car impacted. He felt himself slam sideways, and then forward into the car, and he drifted off into a space between being unconscious and being awake.

He could vaguely here Tony panicking, though he could not figure out _why_. Then there were shots and words he couldn't catch between his two partners. He didn't know who had been shot. He desperately needed to know, but he couldn't move, he couldn't communicate, he was stuck in stasis.

Eventually there were sirens, and he was moved, and he didn't know where he was or where he was going or why he was there or who he was. He didn't know. _What is going on?_ But he didn't know.

He drifted farther into the blackness, and he couldn't hear anything going on around him.

Then it slammed into him. The crash. _He_ was hurt. He was Tim. He heard shots. Someone else was hurt or worse. He was going to the hospital-at the hospital?-he wasn't sure. But he was hurt. He was unconscious. He had a concussion. But he couldn't tell anything more.

Tim spent his time in blackness worrying. _McWorrier_, Tony called him. It was probably true. But he'd been yelling at Tony. What if Tony was hurt. Or worse. What if he, Tim, never woke up, or was already dead? This could conceivable be hell. To have to know forever that the last things you said to the man you loved were angry and vicious and emotional, but not true or heart-felt. That Tony would have to live with that. Or worse, that _he_ would have to live with that. Because maybe _he_ would wake up, but Tony wouldn't. What if Tony was shot? What if...?

A sudden calm descended on him. A hurt, terrified calm, but a calm, nonetheless. He felt cold, but he could relax. There was a silent assurance in his brain that Tony was alive, that Tim would wake up, that...

And then he drifted peacefully into blackness.

And then he awoke alone in a bright, loud room. The fear returned, stronger than before.

_AN: I'm removing the at least ten review mandate, because it honestly was just a bluff. And a check to see how many people would actually review. I had actually talked to someone about it, and they said they preferred it that way, but apparently not everyone agrees... It still stands that if I get twenty reviews to a chapter it will be updated early._


	14. Family Matters

Chapter Fourteen: Family Matters

Ziva, it turned out, was not as seriously injured as Tony and the others had feared. She would need to stay in the hospital for a while, but no major arteries had been hit. She was going to survive.

That was what Ducky had to report, but he knew no one would fully believe it until they got to see her. One by one, everyone took their turn to see her. First Gibbs, then Abby...

Gibbs took a while talking to Ziva. Tony could imagine that Gibbs was giving her a talk about not getting shot, not taking stupid risks, and not leaving two potentially wounded team mates alone and in danger...

And Gibbs was probably also helping her with the necessary paperwork she had to fill out because of what had conspired at the intersection. It was a complicated dance, filing paperwork after shooting someone dead, but the team had plenty of experience filling out such things.

Abby took longer than Gibbs, and probably got four times as much said in half the time. Ziva was probably struggling to keep up with her, until she finally lost her temper and asked Abby to slow down. Then Abby probably spoke at least at a humanly pace for the rest of the duration of the visit.

Tony half-heartedly offered Palmer and Ducky to go before him, and was grateful when they both refused. He smiled at the two of them falsely before heading down the hall to Ziva's room and sitting in a chair by the bed.

"Tony," Ziva said by way of greeting.

"Zee-vah."

"I am sorry that I scared you. I did not even consider that the guy had meant to hit us, I just thought..."

"No one knew what was going on Ziva. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault." Tony wouldn't look her in the eyes, afraid that he might show some of what he was feeling.

"You saw Tim...?" The question was open-ended and not demanding.

Tony closed his eyes and pretended that the edges of his eyelids didn't feel moist. "He's...alive. They...they think he'll wake up. I don't... I don't know... I don't know what... I..."

Ziva grabbed his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, pulling his gave to her face. "Tony, I promise you that McGee will be fine. He is tough, and Gibbs would not have given him permission to stay under." Ziva's thumb rubbed circles into his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

Tony nodded blankly and looked down. "He looked so helpless. Like when he sleeps, but... he's so broken, Ziva. So broken. And, you know, he's Tim. He's never...he's never hurt. He's the one always worrying about us. And he's... I think I understand why he's always worrying about things, now. I just wish... Why did we have to be arguing? Why did we-"

"_Tony_," Ziva reprimanded softly. "McGee was not really angry with either of us, and he is going to be fine. You are not being yourself. You make problems between yourself and others that are not really there. You do your best to make it impossible for people to get close to you. If you want any relationship to work-with any of us-you have to talk with us. Gibbs cannot help you if you hide. McGee will not pry when he should, and gives you more space than you need. Ducky does his best, but you need more than a few seconds a month to work out your problems. Tony, you cannot keep hiding from everyone. Even I do not know what you want anymore, and McGee understands less than I do. He tries, but he only has as much of you as you will give him. He's willing to give everything for a little. Give him _something_, Tony."

Tony nodded. "Okay, Ziva. I'll try. I'll...I'll...I don't know. I'll talk with him, if he ever..."

"He'll be awake by tomorrow morning, Tony. I can feel it. Gibbs can feel it. When is Gibbs gut ever wrong? Do not doubt Gibbs' gut."

Tony smiled at her. "Yeah." He looked to the corner for a moment. "Did I let you guys down? I feel like I wasn't paying attention, or I was too worried about Tim when I should have been worried about you and-"

"McGee was injured and I was not. I was worried about you and did not bother looking at the surroundings. It was I that failed the two of you, Tony, if anyone did. The past is the past, Tony. You cannot change it." Ziva slapped the back of his head gently and easily. She smiled at him as he tapped the back of her head in retaliation.

"Oi! Ziva stop." She was punching him lightly in jest. Tony held up his hands in a half-hearted defense against the onslaught.

She stopped punching him but continued smiling. "Tony, you are like my brother." She was suddenly very serious.

"Minus the sexual tension," Tony clarified. "At least I hope so. I don't have any siblings. Maybe there is sexual tension between-oof!" Ziva punched him lightly in the gut.

"You know what I mean, Tony."

Tony's smile grew more genuine. "Yeah, I know." He smiled and gave her a hug and kissed her on the cheek. She clung to him, prolonging the hug, searching for something.

"Thank you, Tony," she finally said, letting go. "I suppose that Ducky and Palmer want to come see me, and then Abby will probably have a million things that she forgot to say?"

Tony grinned. "Most likely. I'll send Ducky in." He turned to leave the room.

Ziva stopped him at the door. "Tony, I really mean it. Thank you."

Tony turned to her. "That's what family's for, Ziva." He turned down the hallway towards the waiting room with the others.

_AN: Twenty reviews (between this chapter and yesterday's, but ten people sending one to each _won't_ count, but if you sent one to chapter thirteen already, remember that will count for this one too, if you don't have the time.)_


	15. Confessional

Chapter Fifteen: Confessional

Tim's eyes snapped open in panic and swiveled around the loud, bright ICU. His eyes took in the equipment, his vitals, and-

Tony turned slightly from the window and motioned to the nurses' station. A nurse immediately entered Tim's room and attempted to calm him down, but after several moments of failure, she poked her head out the door.

"Mr. DiNozzo? Agent McGee insists on seeing you, and I don't think he'll calm down otherwise."

Tony nodded blankly, and entered the room. The nurse stood outside the window, watching the monitors of the equipment monitoring Tim's vitals.

"Hey, Tim." Tony's voice was eerily smooth. It was either that or he wouldn't be able to function. Tony had fit a mask over himself to keep from breaking down.

"Tony, I didn't mean it. I didn't. I didn't mean what I said, what I was saying. I was just angry, and it was stupid and-" Tim began, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out faster than he could.

Tony cut him off by placing a hand to his lips. "You didn't do anything wrong, Tim. You wouldn't be saying this if you hadn't been hurt. It was true. Don't beat yourself up over it." He removed his hand from Tim's face and crossed his arms.

"Tony," Tim mumbled, "I...I thought that would be the last thing I said to you."

Tony wouldn't meet his eyes, but Tim could still see him blink. After several moments of silence, Tony managed to respond, "So did I."

Tim grabbed Tony's sleeve and pulled him closer.

Tony pulled his arm back before he got too close, but grabbed Tim's hand and gave it a squeeze. At Tim's pained expression, Tony explained, "The nurse is watching us, and I don't want to..." Tony glanced down to his feet.

Tim nodded and squeezed Tony's hand in return. "I love you," he whispered so quietly Tony almost couldn't hear.

"I love you, too, Tim." Tony's eyes finally met Tim's, and there was a strong conviction in them, as Tony finally convinced himself that it really _wasn't _his fault. He hadn't tried to kill Tim. The man hadn't tried to kill Tim because of him. The two things just weren't related. They couldn't be.

The nurse reentered the room. "Sir, you have to go know. You're contaminating the area."

Tony nodded vaguely without taking his eyes off of Tim. Then he turned and left the room, stopping outside the window and turning back towards the room, looking in. The nurse closed the curtains in annoyance, so Tony sat in a chair in the hall, waiting.

A few moments later, the nurse exited the room. "Agent McGee needs to relax. A neurologist will be in shortly to test him, but I'm going to have to suggest that you go to the waiting room, Mr. DiNozzo-"

"It's _Agent_ DiNozzo," Tony said through gritted teeth.

"Excuse me?" the nurse asked.

"I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Not Mr. DiNozzo, _Agent_ DiNozzo," Tony clarified, standing up so he was taller than the nurse and crossing his arms.

"Either way, you need to go to the waiting room. The doctor will come see you once he has seen to Agent McGee," the nurse replied curtly.

Tony nodded and walked down to get himself a coffee before going to the waiting room and sitting down by himself. He picked up his cell phone and hit speed dial two.

_Gibbs._

"McGee's awake."

_We'll be right there._ Gibbs hung up the phone.

Tony's hand dropped to his lap as he hung up his phone and shoved it into his pocket. He took a careful sip of his coffee before calling McGee's family.

_Hello, this is Sarah._

"Hey, Sarah, this is Tony."

_Agent Tommy! How's my brother?_

Tony rolled his eyes at Sarah's nick-name. "Tim's awake now. You and your parents should come to the hospital. He's seeing a neurologist, now."

_Okay, thanks Tony. Bye._

Tony hung up and went to get drinks for the team. He returned just as the others were arriving and sat the drinks down in front of each person as they sat down.

"Thank you," Ziva hummed, grabbing her tea. Ducky and Palmer each repeated the sentiment as they reached for their drinks.

Abby enveloped Tony in a giant hug before picking up her Caff-Pow. Tony sat down and leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"DiNozzo, why are you here?" Gibbs demanded, taking a sip of his coffee.

"The nurse kicked me out of the hall," Tony responded softly, his lips barely moving.

"And McGee?"

"Getting checked out by a neurologist. The doctor will be out to talk to us as soon as he's done. Or as soon as possible. I'm sure telling us is not at the top of their list of priorities," Tony growled in annoyance.

Before anyone could respond, the McGee's arrived, and Tony automatically stood up and walked over to them. Sarah gave him a hug. He had been surprised when they first arrive the night before that she knew he and Tim were together, but apparently she knew everything about the whole team. Under different circumstances, Tony might have called Tim McBlabbermouth.

Tim's parents, however, didn't seem to have a clue about their relationship, and neither Tim, nor Sarah, were about to say anything about it to them. That was Tim's place, not theirs. However, Mrs. McGee gave him a hug and Mr. McGee gave him a slap on the shoulder that was probably intended to be comforting.

Then Sarah and Mrs. McGee gave Gibbs a hug, and then McGee's parents started talking to Gibbs and Ducky, who had also appeared. Sarah came over to Tony, and then the two of them went to sit with Palmer, Abby, and Ziva.

Palmer and Abby were discussing something, talking so fast that Tony couldn't really follow, and judging by Ziva's expression, neither could she.

"Hey!" Tony snapped. Palmer and Abby looked at him. "How about talking at a human speed and including the rest of us?"

"Sorry," Palmer mumbled, while Abby stuck her tongue out at Tony.

Sarah giggled and punched Tony in the shoulder, to which he grumbled out an "Oof!" Ziva nodded at Tony appreciatively.

"So, Palmer, Abby. Explain to me what's been going on with Tim," Sarah commanded airily.

They started explain in tandem, almost as fast as before, leaving Tony and Ziva sitting across from each other. "So," Tony stated.

"So," Ziva repeated.

"How's it going?"

"Okay. I am still sore, but I got to take a nap this morning in my own bed."

Tony nodded.

"How are you holding in, Tony?"

"Holding up," Tony corrected absently. "I'm fine. Tim's awake."

Ziva shook her head. "I asked about _you_ Tony, not Tim."

Tony looked down. "I'm fine. I wasn't really hurt, Ziva."

"You are avoiding the question, Tony," Ziva accused.

"I know!" Tony snapped loudly. Suddenly the room was quiet, and everyone was looking about him. "What are you looking at?" They went back to their conversations. He glared at Ziva. "I don't know, Ziva. I don't want to talk about it."

"You will have to eventually, Tony. You have to talk about it."

"Somewhere else, some other time, Ziva."

Ziva narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but let it go, at least for a little while.

The neurologist entered and addressed the large group hesitantly. "Are you all for Timothy McGee?" He said in a deep voice.

"Yes," Gibbs responded immediately.

"Alright," he began. "I'm Dr. Johnson, and I've been monitoring his neurological state. Since he woke up, we have done a full neurological work-up, and there does not appear to be any serious internal damage. He's still pretty beat up." Johnson turned to Gibbs. "It'll be at least a week before he's ready for active duty, but he can still do desk work-I've been led to believe he's a computer expert?"

Gibbs nodded. Tony only momentarily considered saying, _He's our McGeek_.

"In that case, he'll be able to work by Wednesday. Non-active. We're still keeping him tonight for observation to make sure there is no neurological decline. Barring any complications, he should be sent home first thing tomorrow morning." The doctor smiled charmingly at them. "He is also allowed to have visitors now. He's being moved from ICU to observation now. Room 411." He turned and left, presumably to go to the next patient, but DiNozzo suspected he would take his time.

The team and the McGee's headed up to the observation waiting room to take their turns seeing Tim. Tony reluctantly said he'd go last. Despite the utter _need_ he felt to see Tim, he recognized that he had just spoken to Tim, and that he really had already had the first turn, even if he had felt the need to keep his emotions in check because of an extremely nosey nurse.

Slowly, everyone took their turns. Tim's parents went first, followed immediately by Sarah. There were a few tense minutes when Tony wondered if Sarah was ever going to be done, and he worried that he may not get a chance to see Tim until that night when everybody left. However, Sarah eventually came back and gave Gibbs a go-which didn't last very long, unsurprisingly. Abby tool the next turn, taking almost as long as Sarah before Ziva went back to see Tim. Ziva took an amount of time closer to what Sarah and Abby had taken than that which Gibbs had taken, which was against her nature. No one said anything, but everyone that knew Ziva well enough to recognize this seemed to be wondering on it. Palmer took his turn right before Ducky went back. They each took about twice as much time as Gibbs had (still not nearly as long as the girls).

By the time it was Tony's turn to go back, three hours had passed, making it 1900 hours, five hours since Tim had woken up. He thought the wait was finally over when Gibbs motioned him over before he went back.

"You're taking Ziva home tonight, and then you are going _home_. You cannot spend a second sleepless night here, do you understand me, DiNozzo?"

"Boss, I-" Tony began to protest.

Gibbs cut him off with a head-slap. "No arguments. That was an order, DiNozzo."

"Okay, boss." Tony turned down the hall to see Tim.

Tim, it seemed, had the same idea as Gibbs. "Tony, you look terrible. You need to go home and _sleep_."

Tony glared at him. "Thank you, McObvious. Gibbs already told me I had to." Tony paused for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I can stay at least for a little while?" It was a statement, but Tony made it into the most hesitant question Tim had ever heard.

"For God's sake Tony, you'd think I just broke up with you!"

Tony flinched and wouldn't look up. "Tim, don't..."

Tim's voice immediately softened. "Tony, I didn't... Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"_Tony_," Tim accused gently.

"Can't we just wait to talk about it until tomorrow when I've had some sleep and you've been discharged?" Tony's voice held an uncharacteristic note of pleading.

Tim caved immediately. "Sure, Tony. I... I didn't mean to hurt you or scare you or-"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Tim. Don't worry about it."

Tim nodded. "How is Ziva, really?"

"Ziva's fine. Just a little cut up, really. A bit of damage in her shoulder, but nothing a few weeks of physical therapy won't fix. She'll be back to her old self in no time. She seems a little too emotional right now though, don't you think?"

Tim nodded emphatically. "Definitely. She came in here and all she would talk about was-was feelings and being scared and me dying and-"

"Tim," Tony said pointedly.

"She would only talk about you. And _us_." Tim corrected.

"I know. She and I are talking tonight when I take her home."

Tim snorted. "Great. She's the least likely counselor ever. but I think she actually does get you more than anyone else."

Tony's gaze shifted to the back corner. He still hadn't met Tim's eyes. "Yeah," he agreed reluctantly.

"Tony."

Tony's gaze jerked to Tim's face, and his tone of concern was only magnified by the look on his partner's face. "Tim, I love you. Do you doubt that?"

Tim furrowed his brows. "No. Why would I?"

Tony nodded vaguely before glancing at the clock. He stepped forward the few steps between his spot and Tim's bed. He leaned down and kissed Tim tenderly on the lips before turning to go out the door.

"Tony."

The senior agent stopped and turned back towards Tim.

"I love you, too. Do _you_ doubt that?"

Tony flinched. "I-it's not-I don't doubt that _you_ love me, specifically. I just-why would anyone love me?" Tony stumbled through his explanation before fleeing the room, afraid of the reaction that confession would receive. He didn't want to know how Tim would react until later. He wanted to go to bed at least thinking that Tim loved him. Even if it was no longer true.


	16. Discussions

Chapter Sixteen: Discussions

The drive to Ziva's house was unsettlingly silent. Despite the compromise Tony had fabricated, Ziva did not speak for the entire drive. And Tony wasn't about to take the initiative to talk about it either.

Tony pulled into the drive and parked the car, expecting Ziva to just climb out of the car and go in. He was too startled to react when she reached over and grabbed the keys out of the ignition before getting out of the car.

Tony reacted suddenly, getting out of the car and running after her. "Ziva! What are you doing? Give me back my keys!"

"No, Tony. We are going to talk about this."

"We had the whole drive to talk about it. Now I want to go home."

Ziva turned and looked him eye-to-eye from where she stood one step above him. "Do not lie to me, Tony. You're just going to sneak back into the hospital and make Sarah promise not to tell anyone that you were there."

Tony took a step back uncomfortably. "Actually, I really do just want to go home." He looked down at his feet.

"Tony?"

"Look, Ziva. I did something stupid. I..."

Ziva held the door open. "Are you coming in?"

Tony looked up and rushed in after her.

Ziva pointedly dropped the keys on the table near the door so Tony would know where they were. "Tony, what did you say to Tim?"

They sat down on opposite ends of the couch. "I...I don't know. I asked a question that when turned back on me I didn't have a good answer for."

"What question, Tony?"

Tony mumbled something that she couldn't here.

"_Tony_."

"I asked if he doubted that I loved him." Tony mumbled, barely loud enough for Ziva to catch.

Ziva scooted closer to him across the couch and gave him a hug. "Tony, he _does_ love you."

"I know, I just can't..." Tony growled, pulling at his hair with both hands.

"You cannot accept it?"

Tony gave Ziva a sidelong glance. "Yes, that's exactly it."

"I understand exactly how you feel. And believe it or not, I think McGee does, too."

Tony shook his head. "Why would he? He has a family that cares about him and loves him. You, me, Gibbs, we didn't have that. It's hard to accept that it's possible to..."

"Be loved?" Ziva finished for him, softly. "I think McGee gets that more than we think. You and I, we had bad families, but we were treated well by other people, no?"

"Sure," Tony replied skeptically.

"What I mean is, we have high expectations of ourselves, and we can always meet those things."

"Okay." Tony felt confused.

"McGee's family was great to him, but he was treated really badly when he was a kid. I promised him I wouldn't tell you this, but...When McGee was in high school he was bullied, no?" Tony nodded. "Well, he was put on anti-depressants and... I shouldn't have told you that, but my point is that McGee... He is not as much of a robot as we think of him as."

"Ziva." Tony thought about how Tim had thought his dad hated him for years without cause...

"No, you need to listen to me, Tony! McGee used to be as unsure of himself as you are. Do you really think that would make him hate you?"

"I told him I wasn't... I told him that there was no reason for him to love me," Tony hissed sadly.

"And that always works, yes? Did you break up with him or something?"

"No, I just...I said I don't trust him. Or I guess that's what it sounds like when I say how I feel out loud, and-"

"It does not matter, Tony. He loves you." Ziva was shaking her head slowly.

"That's easy for you to say, you weren't there," Tony growled.

"Neither were you, Tony. You ran off once you'd said it."

"How would you know either way?" Tony snapped

"You came out of the hallway very quickly, looking like you wanted to sink into the ground," Ziva stated coolly.

Tony looked down again. "Whatever. I have to go." He stood to leave.

"Tony, we all love you. We are a family. We are almost all Gibbs has. You guys are all I have. Maybe McGee, Abby, and Palmer all have family of their own, but they see us as a family as much as you, Gibbs and I do. You are never alone, Tony." Ziva said gently.

Tony sighed. "I know. I just need to relax and get some sleep."

Ziva nodded. "Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Ziva." Tony grabbed his car keys on his way out the door. Ziva locked the door behind him.

Tony did not turn the radio on as he drove home, opting instead to attempt to relax in the silence.

Ziva was probably right about McGee. The junior agent had promised not to leave him for some stupid reason... Tony's inability to trust someone was probably part of that. Probably. A small voice in the back of Tony's mind was telling him that he was trusting Tim too much just believing that, and as much as he tried he couldn't keep himself from believing that, just a little bit...

He pulled into his parking spot and turned off the car before walking up to his apartment. He unlocked the door and turned on as few lights as possible as he walked back to his bedroom. Tony pulled some pj's out of his dresser before heading to the bathroom for a shower.

Tony spent a long time just letting the warm water run down his back, relaxing him. Or at least, he figured that if he stood there long enough it would. Tony finally gave up when the hot water ran out. He turned off the water and dried off before putting on his pajamas.

Tony went to bed and spent a long time staring at the ceiling. He tried to relax and go to sleep, but found he couldn't. Thoughts of Tim hating him or lying to him or Ziva being wrong flooded through his head almost faster than he could think them.

He finally gave in and, disregarding the time, he picked up his phone and hit speed dial four.

"McGee," came a groggy voice on the other end of the line.

"Tim." Tony's voice cracked as he said it.

"Tony?" Tim sounded more awake.

"Do you hate me?"

"What? No I don't. Why would you suggest that?"

Tony paused. "You aren't mad at me?"

Tony could almost hear the gear's in Tim's head turning. "Tony, there is nothing for me to be angry about. It's not your fault-"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Tony."

Tony paused for a long time.

"Tony?"

"Can you say it again?"

"I love you, Tony. I really do. No matter what."

Tony paused. "I don't doubt it, Tim. I love you. I'm sorry I called you this late."

"Don't worry about it Tony. I love you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight. I love you, too." Tony said softly before hanging up.

Finally, Tony found that he could fall asleep, and he did so before he could even put his phone down on the night stand.


	17. A Push in the Wrong Dirrection

Chapter Seventeen: A Push in the Wrong Direction

Tony awoke with a jolt when his phone went off, and barely kept from tossing it across the room when if vibrated in his hand while it rang. He glanced at the clock as he answered with a groggy, "Hullo?" 0400. Who the hell was calling him at 0400?

_Tony?_ Sarah McGee said tentatively on the other line.

"Sarah? Is something wrong with Tim?" Tony asked, flicking on a light and searching for clothes.

_No, no. I'm just... It's really creepy here at night, Tony._

"Are you at the hospital?" Tony asked, forcing the incredulity out of his voice.

_Yeah. Um, I'm sorry I called you, but...Could you come get me?_ Sarah's voice was hesitant.

Tony was starting to wonder if this was some kind of test. Or joke. "Sure, Sarah. Just give me twenty minutes to get there."

_Okay. Thanks, Tony. Bye._ The youngest McGee hung up.

Slowly, Tony kicked off his pajama bottoms and pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He pulled an OSU shirt out of his closet and pulled it over his head. Grabbing socks he walked into the living room.

After shoving his shoes on, Tony left, grabbing a jacket, his keys, and his wallet from the closet before going out the door. He drove to the hospital in silence, too tired to even think strait. He was, however, cognizant enough to realize that Sarah McGee being freaked out just didn't _sound_ right.

When Tony met Sarah in the waiting room on Tim's floor, she gave no indication of having ulterior motives beyond the fact that she didn't actually seem all that scared. Tony let it go as her way of dealing with nerves.

The two of them walked out to Tony's car in silence. As Tony pulled out of the parking garage, he asked numbly, "Where do you live?"

"Just drop me at Tim's house," Sarah answered easily.

Tony nodded in understanding before falling silent again.

"You're a jerk."

Tony was so startled by this statement he didn't have a statement.

"What do you want from my brother?" Sarah demanded.

"I-what?" Tony stuttered.

Sarah growled at him. "Don't play dumb, Tony. It's not like Tim never told me about you. I don't care if he thinks you've changed, I know better. Agent Tommy is the same as the 'old Tony' but I bet that's the same as you still are, isn't it? And you went home with Ziva tonight. You and my brother have been on two dates, and you're already cheating on him?"

"I-wha...? - I'm not cheating on Tim. Especially not with Ziva." Tony managed as he turned a corner a bit more sharply than he had intended.

"How many one night stands have you had? How many actual relationships? Because my brother deserves someone better that you. Someone who actually cares about more than just sex." The implication was clear in Sarah's voice.

"Sarah, I-I don't-I-How can you say that?"

"Tell me you wouldn't be worried about him if you were in my position." Sarah demanded.

"I-" Tony started, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He had pulled into Tim's parking spot.

Sarah turned towards him when he turned off the car. "You have no idea what Tim's been through, and I don't think you have even the vaguest concept of what a real relationship is. How could I? Indeed. How could I just let you crush Tim? I couldn't. I won't. Now drive me back to the hospital."

Tony emptily turned the car back on and started driving back.

After a minute or two of silence, Sarah spoke again. "You aren't cheating on my brother?"

"No." Tony felt cold inside.

Sarah sighed. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now. If I think you've done-or will do-anything to hurt Tim, I promise you that I'll make sure you're the one that gets hurt."

Tony stopped in front of the hospital and dropped her off. Sarah slammed the door shut and walked into the hospital without a backwards glance.

Tony drove home, trying really hard just to keep breathing, because Sarah had said many of the things he's been thinking himself since this started. _He just wasn't good enough for Tim_.

Once inside his apartment, Tony collapsed to the ground, his back against the front door. His head dropped to his knees, which he was clenching to his chest, and he began to cry. Suddenly, nothing seemed to matter. Not what time it was, not when he had to be at the hospital tomorrow, not anything. Even if Ziva and Gibbs were right, even if McGee did love him, even if everything else went right, even _then_ Sarah would be right. Because he wasn't good at relationships, and he always ended up hurting people. And of all the times he'd hurt someone, he could count on one hand how many times he'd cared about hurting them, and on two fingers the times he'd been hurt too. He just didn't know how to be what Tim needed-what Tim deserved.

Tony punched the wall painfully and ignored the alarming cracking noise that resulted. It didn't matter. No matter what he did, it didn't change anything; _it didn't matter_!

Ignoring the pain in his hand, Tony pushed himself off the ground and went to his bedroom. He flung his dirty clothes haphazardly across the room before jumping into bed. He turned off the light and squeezed his eyes so tight it hurt, hoping that if he could just fall asleep, he would wake up and it would all be a bad dream. A really bad dream. But no matter what he did, he couldn't sleep. And deep down he knew that even if it has been a dream the truth would be the same: He just wasn't good enough for Tim.

Tony finally gave up. He got to his feet and pulled his clothes back on, leaving his bed a haphazard mess. He stomped around his apartment before finally deciding on the only obvious option he had left to him. He went back to his bedroom and collected his phone, keys and wallet before going back to the living room and putting his shoes back on. He slipped his jacket on again before exiting the house.

Tony started his car and drove off before he could second guess himself. Again.


	18. On Your Six

_An: The end of this chapter is from Gibbs POV instead of Tony's. It's a smooth transition, though._

_Wow someone pointed out that I epically failed end just left out half a sentence of Gibbs speech to Tony. I've fixed it now. It was one of my favorite lines too. Weird._

Chapter Eighteen: On Your Six

When Tony entered the door to Gibbs house, it was so quiet that he would have thought Gibbs was asleep if he wasn't so used to seeing him. Despite the fact that he talked to Gibbs about nearly everything that bothered him he had never (in his recollection) said anything to Gibbs about his feelings for McGee. Tony tip-toed through the house (just in case) to get to the stairs to the basement.

As expected, Gibbs was working on a boat. Tony came down and sat on the stairs waiting for Gibbs to speak to him.

"I thought I told you to go home and sleep, DiNozzo," Gibbs asked, not looking up from his work.

"I did, boss." Tony stared at the boat, not looking at Gibbs.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs reprimanded. Before the older man could continue, Tony interrupted.

"Sarah called me and asked me to get her."

"Sarah McGee?" Gibbs asked, glancing over at Tony, who was staring at his hands as if they held the secrets of the universe.

"Yeah. She didn't actually want to go home."

Gibbs put his tools down and turned to Tony, who still wasn't looking at him. "What did she want DiNozzo."

"I'm not good enough for McGee, am I?" Tony asked in lieu of answering the question.

Gibbs walked over and sat down next to Tony. "What kind of question is that, Tony?"

Tony turned and met Gibbs gaze with eyes that were shiny with tears. "A really good one, boss."

Gibbs shook his head. "Why is that?" He caught sight of Tony's bleeding hand but didn't say anything.

"Well he's all...he's smart and funny and clever and a good agent and-" Tony started.

"You're all those things, too, Tony," Gibbs interrupted gently.

"Not like Tim is. He's just...he's so...perfect. And good and compassionate. He takes things so much more seriously than I do, and-"

"What did Sarah say to you, Tony?" Gibbs demanded harshly.

"Nothing I wasn't already thinking, boss," Tony said instantly.

Gibbs nodded softly to himself and grabbed Tony's injured hand by the wrist, forcing Tony to show it to him. He gently brushed a finger down Tony's knuckles, making the younger agent flinch. "You're both wrong about something," Gibbs said quietly, releasing Tony's hand to get up and grab his keys.

"We aren't, boss. Tim's a good guy and I'm a jerk. I use people and he takes relationships seriously. Sarah's right, I'm just going to end up hurting him, and-"

"Nope." Gibbs grabbed Tony by the collar, half-dragging him up the stairs.

"What?" Tony demanded, stumbling up the stairs after Gibbs.

"If you were going to hurt him, if you really just used people like you claim, why would the thought of hurting McGee bother you at all? Does that make sense to you, Tony?" Gibbs asked plainly.

"I-I guess not... Boss?" Tony stammered.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs responded.

"You aren't mad?" Tony asked tentatively.

"About what, DiNozzo?"

"That I didn't tell you about us? ... That we're breaking rule number twelve? That I hid this from you? That-" Tony asked quietly.

"You're terrible at hiding things, DiNozzo. I'd only be upset if I thought it would cause a problem, which I don't think it will. Neither does Abby. Or Tim." Gibbs started the car and drove off as soon as Tony had his seat belt on.

"You've talked to Abby and Tim about this?" Tony cried hoarsely.

"They both told me. Abby hinted at something, but wouldn't elaborate until she found out that I'd already talked to McGee about it. McGee told me that first night after you fell asleep."

Tony was silent with wonder. How had he fallen so behind? He usually talked to Gibbs more than anyone else on the team other than Ducky.

The drive was silent for a long time until Tony realized where they were going. "The hospital, boss?"

"You broke your hand, DiNozzo."

"I what?" Tony looked down at his right hand. It was bleeding profusely and his knuckles were swollen to about twice their normal size. "Oh," Tony said absently.

The rest of the drive was silent, each man was mulling over what the other had said. Tony was slightly relieved, but far less certain of himself than before. Gibbs was considering what to do about the McGee siblings and who was really at fault. McGee probably hadn't said anything to Sarah with that end in mind, but it wasn't much of a stretch for the strong-willed Sarah McGee to stand up for her big brother, worried that he wouldn't stand up for himself. In times past, Tim probably wouldn't have stood up for himself, but years on the team had changed that.

When Gibbs parked the car, neither man hesitated to get out and walk into the hospital. After fifteen minutes in the disorganized waiting room, Tony was taken back to get an x-ray, stitches and a cast. Gibbs turned to go up to see Tim and Sarah, deciding to take care of that mess now before it got blown out of proportion.

"Sarah," Gibbs said in greeting, entering McGee's room.

The young girl stood up, as McGee woke groggily. "Boss?"

"Go back to sleep, Tim."

"Mmm-kay," he replied vaguely, already half-way there.

"Walk with me," Gibbs commanded, leaving the room. Sarah followed without a thought.

Gibbs waited to say anything until he got into the waiting room. "You're wrong about DiNozzo, Sarah."

"Sir?" Sarah asked innocently.

"Don't play coy, Sarah. I'm not stupid. Your brother can take care of himself, so why don't you let him instead of your passive-aggressive nonsense." Gibbs growled, suddenly losing his calm demeanor.

"Really? Because Tim's told me all about _'Agent Tommy'_ and I seriously doubt that there is a bone of fidelity in his whole body. He claims Tony's different since Jeanne, but-"

"You can't trust your brother's judgment, Sarah?" Gibbs interrupted savagely.

"I can't think of a single instance when he's made the right choice for himself, Agent Gibbs," Sarah proclaimed, as self-assured as ever.

"Right for who? You or him? You think dating Abby was a bad choice? Joining NCIS? Becoming a field agent? Do you have so little respect for your brother that you can't just let him be happy? Because manipulating Tony-who all three of us know to be more fragile than he lets on-is just going to end up hurting them both." Gibbs glared at Sarah, and she flinched.

"He's just using him," she said, less certainly.

"If he was then what you said wouldn't have changed anything, and you know it. Don't you ever do what you did to them to any of my agents ever again, or I swear it'll be one of the last things you say to them. When Tim finds out-" Gibbs threatened quietly.

"Tim doesn't need to know," Sarah asserted angrily.

"Yes he does, and I'm going to tell him if you don't. Tony won't say anything, no matter how much it bothers him. Not to your brother."

Sarah looked at her feet, then up at the clock. "You tell him, then, if you're so sure it matters to him." She challenged.

Gibbs looked up at the clock. "You have fifteen minutes to change your mind; I'll be back up at 0700."

Gibbs turned and went back down to check on Tony.


	19. Unbroken

_AN: To those of you who either (a) love Sarah and don't want to see her as the bad guy or (b) think Sarah is a total bitch in this story, hold your horses. Sarah, first and foremost, is a good guy. The best sister Tim could want. Because even if she makes mistakes, she _is_,_ _as Tony said, trying to help. I didn't like writing that segment. I didn't want to write it. But I sat down and thought to myself, what would _I_ do if _my_ brother was dating a Tony. And then I knew what Sarah would do. Because with the amount of information Tim has given her-mostly complaining and Tony's jerk-ness in his books-how _could_ she think of Tony as anything different? So in the grand scheme of things, it was Tim's fault, not Sarah's, so don't be mad at her. She was just doing her sibling duty, and protecting her big brother who she doesn't ever remember being able to protect himself._

Chapter Nineteen: Unbroken

Three stitches and a small cast later, Tony ran into Gibbs, who was coming down to get him. "Hey, boss."

Gibbs nodded and turned, heading back up to Tim's room. Tony followed hesitantly, but for once managed to keep his mouth shut.

At least until they got to Tim's floor. "Boss, I don't think that I should go in, I mean we...and Sarah's right about me, boss. She's totally-"

Gibbs cut him off with a deserved slap to the back of the head. "If you leave him now because of what she said, then she is right. Don't let anyone manipulate you like that, Tony."

Tony rubbed the back of his head. "Right, boss. Sorry, boss."

"Don't apologize, DiNozzo." Gibbs turned into Tim's room.

"It's a sign of weakness." Tony finished quietly to himself before following Gibbs.

"Tony," Tim greeted with a smile that Tony couldn't help but return.

"Hey, Tim."

Gibbs motioned for Sarah to follow him out of the room, leaving Tony and Tim alone. She gave Tony a piercing look as she went out.

As soon as they were gone, Tim started talking. "Tony, I am so sorry. Sarah was way out of line. Nothing she said was true, you have to believe that."

Tony took a seat and looked out the window. "That's not true, and you know it. I'm exactly what she said I am." Tony's voice sounded, even to Tony's surprise.

"Don't say that, Tony," Tim admonished softly. "If you just listen to her so easily-"

"I know," Tony interrupted a little harshly. Then softer, "I just...I was already thinking what she was saying. And it's...it's hard to ignore that..."

Tim grimaced. "It's not true. Even Ziva would agree with me, Tony. You aren't that guy anymore. If you even care enough _not_ want to be that guy, then you can't be him."

Tony blinked. Hearing Tim say it like that made it real, more so than hearing Gibbs say it. Tony hadn't let himself think of it that way until that moment. He was different...Maybe he was different enough to-

"Do you really believe that?" Tony asked quietly, searching Tim's face for some sort of reassurance.

Tim took Tony's good hand and brushed a kiss across his knuckles. "I really do. I would even if it were someone else and not me."

Tony nodded vaguely and ran the fingers of his other hand through his hair.

Tim winced. "Tony, what did you do to your hand?" he demanded, gently.

"I broke it," he mumbled, to quietly for Tim to hear.

"What?"

"I-I punched the wall, okay? I-I was upset with myself..." Tony clarified.

"If that was because of Sarah-"

"Just let it go, alright? Sarah was trying to protect you. You can't penalize her for that."

"She doesn't need to protect me! No one does; I can take care of myself," Tim snapped.

Tony flinched and pulled his hand back, looking away.

"Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just sick of everyone trying to protect me and not letting me just do my thing. Sarah always did, and then Abby started, and now you all do and..." Tim let the sentence hang in the air for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything," Tony said in a small voice.

Tim frowned at Tony's distress. "I didn't mean it like that, Tony. I just..."

"It's fine, whatever." Tony looked at Tim with his signature grin.

Tim shook his head. "Sometimes, Tony, I don't know what to think about you." He smiled back at Tony.

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, losing the grin.

"It's just...you send out mixed signals. Not about everything, but you try so hard to hide everything it's hard to tell what you need," Tim explained.

"Sorry," Tony said softly, looking down at his feet.

"Tony," Tim breathed, grabbing Tony's hand again.

Tony lifted his head, meeting Tim's green eyes with his own. His head tilted to the side slightly in response.

"I'm not kidding you. This isn't some kind of joke or prank," Tim continued.

"What isn't?" Tony asked quietly.

"This. Us. It isn't some elaborate prank. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course." Tony dropped his gaze to his feet for a moment, before looking up at Tim with a grin.

"I didn't think so," Tim said, letting go of Tony's hand and looking away.

Tony thrust his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I'm trying to, Tim. Can you just give me a chance to try? Please."

Tim looked back at Tony, his eyes slightly narrowed, but his meaning unreadable. "I am giving you a chance, Tony. I'm not giving up on you, I'm just..." His voice trailed off and he looked away again.

"Testing the waters," Tony offered. "Testing if it's worth the trouble," he added more quietly, taking a few steps back, ready to flee again.

"No, Tony, don't." Tim's head snapped around, pinning Tony to the spot with a look. After a few seconds, Tim added gently, "I already know that it's worth the trouble. Anyone who can see anything about you can see that."

Tony swallowed, stepping closer. "I-it just doesn't seem so obvious to me."

"I'll make it obvious," Tim promised, his voice almost challenging Tony-or the universe-to stop him.

Tony looked down at his feet, swallowing again. "Ye-yeah. Okay, Tim. I-whatever."

Tim took Tony's hand again, and gave it a squeeze, causing Tony to look up at him again. "Don't be like that, Tony."

"I'm not being like anything," Tony snapped defensively, trying to pull his hand away, but Tim wouldn't let go.

"You're afraid," Tim observed gently. "What are you afraid of? Tony, I'm not going to-"

"Yes you are!" Tony growled. "They all do. That's all that happens. Don't make promises you can't keep. Let of me!" Tony twisted Tim's wrist to make him let go.

Tim groaned, jerking his already injured arm away. "Tony."

Tony's eyes widened. "Tim, I didn't-I-" He was torn between his worry and the desire to run.

Tim clenched his jaw and pressed his eyes shut forcefully, breathing heavily through his nose. He finally cracked one eye open to see the terrified look on Tony's face. "Don't. Go. Anywhere."

"O-okay." Tony's voice shook as he spoke.

A minute later-though it felt like an eternity to Tony-Tim finally relaxed and opened his eyes.

Before the younger man spoke, Tony cut in. "Tim, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I was just-I was-Tim, please. I-"

"Tony calm down," Tim ordered, and Tony's mouth stuttered to a stop. "It's okay. That was my fault, I shouldn't have trapped you."

"No, Tim. I-I over reacted. I shouldn't have-not to you. Not to anyone. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"Tony." The slight sharpness in Tim's voice made Tony flinch. "I said it was my fault. Don't worry about it."

"I-okay," Tony conceded, looking away.

"Do you want to come over tonight," Tim offered.

"Do I what?" Tony's eyes flashed to Tim's face incredulously.

"Want to come over. Eat dinner and watch a movie or something."

"Tonight? But I just-"

"And I said to forget it," Tim said firmly. "Do you want to or not?"

"I-What movie?" Tony's voice sounded slightly strangled.

"Anything you want."

"_The Usual Suspects_?"

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Hitchcock?"

"Or we could watch _Goldfinger_, or _Sleepless in Seattle_, or anything you want. Anything. I didn't-"

"Whatever you want is fine, Tony. I was just teasing."

_Teasing,_ Tony thought, _right._ He began to relax. "Anything?"

"Anything," Tim confirmed.

"O-okay." They fell into silence for several minutes, until Tony finally moved. He gently took Tim's hand and kissed his wrist where he had assaulted it, almost as if driven by compulsion.

"Tony?" Tim asked, confused.

"More on that later," Tony muttered faintly, looking out the small window in the door. Then he spoke more strongly. "Gibbs is waiting outside impatiently for me to leave so he can talk to you. Sorry. I-I'll see you later. ... Tonight at least." He looked at Tim and smiled, before leaving the room as Gibbs entered.


	20. Probie

_AN: I know I stole the name of this chapter from an episode of NCIS, but the reasons for the two titles are totally different._

Chapter 20: Probie

The rest of the team arrived while Tony was visiting Tim, and after an hour of arguing with nurses and the rest of the team taking turns seeing Tim, Gibbs drove Tim home and told everyone else to go him for the day, and Vance set up for a different team to take on Gibbs' on call duty for the rest of the weekend. After an exchanging of hugs and formalities, the team went their separate ways for the day, though Tony suspected that Abby, at least, would be going to see Tim at some point.

Tony drove home in silence. Once there, he sat on his balcony in silent contemplation. Thoughts were whipping through his head at break neck speeds, his emotions surging exhaustingly from one to the next without any break until he finally couldn't take it anymore and growled into the cool fall air, though it hardly helped.

In attempt to clear his head, Tony put on shorts and a tee-shirt and went for a run. The cool air cleared out his lungs-and also his head, for which he was very grateful. When he got back to his apartment, Ziva's car was parked out front, thought the woman in question was nowhere to be seen until he got up to his house. He walked up to his apartment, stretching some as he went, and found that Ziva had picked his lock.

"Normally, one waits to be let into a house, Zee-vah," Tony complained as he closed the door.

Ziva came back into the living room. "Where were you, Tony? You did not answer my call."

"Running." Tony furrowed his brows. "So my not answering my phone is cause for breaking into my house?"

"You did not answer the door either."

"Right." Tony nodded slowly, deciding it was best not to ask. "What did you want?"

Ziva hesitated. "I wanted to check on you. Sarah said something to me about last night, and... She was wrong, Tony. She does not think so, but she was. You are not the man you once were."

Tony stepped around Ziva headed towards the bedroom. "And what man was that?"

"Selfish, bigoted, careless. That is what you used to be, but that is not what you are now," Ziva clarified gently, following Tony.

Tony dug through his closet, pulling out a dark pair of jeans and a green button-up shirt. "And what am I now, Ziva?" He turned to face her, tossing the clothes on the bed and crossing his arms.

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Exactly the person Tim needs."

Tony closed his eyes. "Thank you, Ziva," he murmured after a minute's hesitation.

She stepped out of his personal space. "Except that you smell. Take a shower."

Tony grinned. "Right, then. Go watch a movie or something. Whatever you Mossad Officers do."

"I am not a Mossad Officer anymore." She emphasized her words with gestures, smiling.

"Yeah, I know," Tony conceded, smiling a small, genuine smile. Then he turned for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

After a quick shower, Tony entered the living room to see Ziva watching an episode of Seinfeld.

"I do not understand," she said by way of greeting. "Why is this funny?"

Tony sat down next to her on the couch. "It's a situational comedy-a sit-com, if you will." Tony snickered to himself. "Look, the characters are just ending up in really awkward, amusing situations." He laughed at the show for a moment while Ziva made a face before continuing. "However, I'm not surprised that you don't get it, seeing as you're barely an American."

Ziva punched Tony in the shoulder playfully. "Just because I do not understand your American 'sense of humor' does not mean I am not an American, Tony."

"Yeah, I know Ziva. I was just teasing. Do you want to order lunch or something?"

Ziva furrowed her brows at something on Seinfeld again. "Is that all you ever think about, Tony?"

Tony grinned. "Nope, I think about plenty of other things. Like what Tim and I are doing tonight."

Ziva raised an eyebrow at Tony. "Oh. Are you to going to 'get it on'?"

Tony frowned. "I'm somehow not surprised that you got that one right. But no, we are going to watch a movie."

Ziva smiled and nodded. "Not this. It doesn't make any sense."

"Well, for one, Ziva, this is a television show, not a movie. And for two, I have to agree with you that the Probie wouldn't get it either."

"McGee is not the Probie anymore, Tony," Ziva admonished.

"Yes he is, Ziva. He's Probie and you're Probette." Tony grinned.

"That's not what I was saying. I do not think he likes it when you call him that."

Tony's grin disappeared. "Yeah, I know. I...it's just habit. I try not to call him that..." But as he thought back on it, maybe he did still call him that too much.

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "Maybe you should try harder." Then she grabbed the remote, flicked the TV off, and threw the remote across the room. "It just does not make any sense! How can you watch that?"

Tony laughed, though he took her words to heart. "Well, Ziva, it does include wordplay, which I wouldn't expect you to understand anyways."

Ziva stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever." She walked across the room and pulled out a movie from the shelf. "What is this?"

As soon as Tony saw it he decided on it for later. "That is _The Terminator_. It's about robots in the future. I think Pro-Tim likes it, actually."

"Then you should watch this," Ziva declared, presenting it to Tony.

"Good idea, Ziva. So, what do you want to eat?"

Ziva grabbed Tony's wrist and dragged him along behind her. "There is a good restaurant downtown that we can go to."

"Hold on, Ziva! Let me get my wallet." Ziva let go of Tony and he ran back inside to get his wallet, keys, and phone before locking the front door.

"Anyone that wants to get into your house is just going to pick the lock anyways," Ziva declared impatiently.

"You're starting to sound like Gibbs," Tony accused.

Ziva shrugged. "It is true, Tony. Locking the door does not help, anyone that actually wants in can get in regardless."

"Well, not all of us can afford a McPooch, now, can we?"

Ziva chuckled as they walked to the parking lot. "So, your car or mine?"

"Mine. I am not letting you drive me anywhere."

"Then I will have to give you directions."

Tony hesitated before turning towards Ziva's car. "I'm more afraid of your directions than your driving."

"Suit yourself," Ziva said, starting the car with and flooring the gas pedal as she pulled out before Tony could put on his seat belt.


	21. Tradition

Chapter 21: Tradition

Tony gripped onto the car with his eyes squeezed shut as Ziva drove them downtown.

"You do know that, as a federal agent, I should be arresting you for more vehicular crimes than I charged in a single week of night shifts around the full moon as a metro cop, right?" Tony asked through gritted teeth.

"Is that why your eyes are closed?"

"No, that's so I don't vomit."

"Tony, you are not one to get 'car sick'."

"Ziva, whoever gave you a drivers licence should be arrested for negligence, attempted murder, and being too stupid to live."

"Very funny, Tony."

"I'm not kidding, Ziva."

The car jolted to a stop and Tony's hands flew forward to catch himself as every muscle in his body braced for impact. After a moment he cracked one eye open to see Ziva staring at him with her hands on the wheel.

"We are here, Tony," she announced, turning off the car and unbuckling her seat-belt.

Slowly, Tony followed suit, his movements a bit shaky from the car ride. "I take it back. I'm less afraid of your directions than your driving. A lot less afraid."

Ziva snickered. "Stop embellishing, Tony. One would think I tried to kill you."

"I'm not entirely certain that you didn't," Tony accused, relaxing nonetheless. He followed Ziva into the restaurant, finding immediately that nothing was in English. "How am I supposed to order if I don't speak Hebrew, Zee-vah."

"You do not order in a place like this, Tony. They bring you your food and you truly enjoy it."

Tony raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. "This better not constitute 'enjoying' my food in the manner that someone would insist that you are a 'good' driver."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at Tony. "I am a good driver, Tony."

"Maybe in Israel, but here in America we try to follow the speed limit and other traffic laws."

"Mmm...Maybe you just have misplaced your priorities."

"Ziva, I'm going to say this as kindly as I can. _You are the one with 'misplaced priorities'!"_ Tony nearly shouted.

"One man's trash is to another his own."

Tony stared at Ziva blankly for a moment in silence. "I'm not sure if you mean 'To each his own' or 'One man's trash is another man's treasure'. I'm also not sure that either are relevant. I think 'self preservation' more aptly fits in this situation."

Ziva nodded in agreement. "I agree. In Israel the way I drive is designed to keep me alive."

Tony closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Okay, Ziva, but here in _America_ the way you drive is likely to get you and anyone in a two block radius killed."

"I know what I am doing, Tony!" Ziva snapped.

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but the waiter arrived just at that moment and placed food in front of each of them, before saying something in Hebrew to Ziva, which she responded to before he left.

Ziva turned to Tony and smiled. "Dig in."

Tony looked down at his food, and found-much to his surprise-that it actually looked edible. He began to eat without comment. He could think of no response to what Ziva had said. Maybe it was just an attempt at murder-suicide. _I should tell that one to McWriter..._ he thought to himself.

"You are enjoying your meal, Tony?" Ziva asked with a sly grin.

Tony looked up at her with a mouth full of food. "Yes. And if this is something I wouldn't eat if I knew what it was, then don't tell me what it is. I don't need to know." Ziva chuckled to herself, which seemed to Tony to be a very worrisome act. "When the waiter comes back, tell him that this is very good...and thank you."

Ziva nodded with eyebrows furrowed. She looked as if she might want to say something, but the waiter arrived, and Ziva answered what sounded like a question from him instead. He bowed, smiled slyly at Tony and left.

Tony looked at Ziva, almost asked what that was all about and then changed his mind. "Were you going to ask something?"

"Were you thanking me or telling me to thank the waiter?" Ziva asked, brows furrowed again.

"You. But I guess thanking the staff is a good idea, too, now that you mention it." Tony opened his mouth to continue then stopped and looked down at the last few bites of his food. "I really _don't_ want to know what this is, do I?"

Ziva laughed. "Probably not."

Tony nodded. Several mouthfuls later his plate was empty and he looked at Ziva. "I'm going to pay."

Ziva gave him a look. "No you aren't. We are splitting it. Otherwise I gave our waiter the wrong impression."

Tony gave Ziva a look and whispered, "What are you talking about, David?"

Ziva grinned. "He asked if we were on a date and I told him that you were gay."

Tony was beyond belief. "I... I have nothing to say to that. But-I..." Tony shook his head and let the sentence hang in the air. He remained silent until they got in the car and Ziva finally spoke up.

"Tony, what is wrong?" Ziva asked, somehow managing to drive following all the traffic laws.

"You can't just-You can't-You can't tell people that Ziva! I didn't say you could...McGee didn't...or maybe he did...But it's not _true_," Tony stuttered without looking away from the window.

"_Tony_," Ziva sighed. "He thought I was joking. And I was. I...we were flirting, Tony."

"We were _not_ flirting," Tony grumbled stonily.

Ziva sighed loudly. "Not you and I."

Tony looked-or more accurately, glared-over at her. "Wait, you mean...?"

"Yes, Tony. The waiter and I," Ziva snapped at him, disregarding traffic laws once again.

"Oh. Sorry." Tony looked out his side window, then decided that he would be better off with his eyes closed.

The rest of the ride was illegally short and comfortably silent. Ziva slammed on the breaks as she parked, causing Tony to wince and make a choked noise in the back of his throat. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Do not be a baby, Tony."

"No, really," he groaned, hopping out of the car and running inside.

Several minutes later, Ziva joined him in the bathroom. "Are you okay, Tony?"

"That stuff that I didn't want to know what it was...?"

"A sandwich made from organs. It is actually quite good."

"I think I may be sick again," Tony hissed.

Ziva nodded and leaned against the sink. "Do you want me to call McGee for you?"

Tony looked up at Ziva, his face panicked, in addition to green. "No. I...am not...skipping out on Tim because of..." as if on cue, Tony lost control of his gag reflex and retched again "this."

Ziva winced and went to the closet and grabbed a washcloth that she wet with cold water. She crouched next to Tony and rubbed it on the back of his neck before wiping down his face. "Tony, if you are sick like this at McGee's it will not be an enjoyable experience for either of you."

"Yes it will," Tony declared resolutely. Though it did not appear that he would be sick again, he did not look well enough to be going anywhere.

"Tony," Ziva reprimanded, not unkindly, rinsing out the washcloth and re-wetting it. "Do not be ridiculous."

"Not...ridiculous. ... DiNozzo method."

Ziva winced as she wiped Tony's face with the washcloth again. "Please tell me this isn't going to be like your hangover cure."

Tony shook his head before dropping his forehead to the toilet seat. "Nope. Now help me get into the shower."


	22. Jinx and Hijinks

Chapter 22: Jinx and Hijinks

"This is not going to work, Tony," Ziva said, biting her bottom lip.

"Always does," Tony said resolutely, laying on his back with a wet cloth over his face.

"Tony, as much as I hate to admit that you have food poisoning-or at least some sort of allergy, as I am certain you do not have a weak gut-it is not the sort of thing you can just magic away. And even if you can act mostly normal, McGee is going to expect you to eat dinner with him and we both know that there is no way to get out of-"

"Do not jinx me, David!" Tony snapped.

"Jinx? What is jinx?"

"Right here is a witty comment about your lack of English skills or American citizenship."

"_Tony_," Ziva complained.

"Like, you know, make something that has a chance go bad."

"No, I do not know."

"Then nevermind. I am too tired for this."

"That is exactly my point, Tony," Ziva tried to reason with him.

"If all you are going to do is hold me back, David, then _go away_."

"Tony, I am trying to be a good friend. If you just let me call McGee, then-"

"Not going to happen, Probette."

Ziva growled to herself. "Tony! Are you really so desperate that you are going to torment yourself all night for _a single date_? Is it really worth the trouble?"

Tony propped himself up on his elbows and allowed the washcloth to fall off of his face so he could glare at Ziva. "Are you insinuating that Tim isn't worth the trouble?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes. "No, I'm saying that a _single_ date is not worth the amount of head-slaps you will get from Gibbs for how you will be tomorrow afterwards."

"It's not just a single date, Ziva," Tony sighed, dropping his head back down on the couch and dropping the cloth haphazardly onto his face again.

"And why do you say that, Tony?" Ziva said kindly, fixing the washcloth.

"Because if I back out of this what's keeping me from backing out of everything? And it's like our first date. Okay, second. But that just makes it worse. You should at least know better than to back out on a second date, Ziva." His voice was oddly muffled by the washcloth.

Ziva sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Tony if you let _me_ call him and explain, then he wouldn't think you were backing out."

"You're right," Tony snapped. "He'd think I was cheating on him. On the second date. We've been together less than a week."

"Tony, you know that's not true-"

"He already thinks we're 'harboring secret feelings for each other'! It would be like _Abby_ calling to cancel for _him_."

Ziva hesitated. She hadn't thought of it that way. "That's not true. You know he trusts you. He's not _you_, Tony."

Tony turned his head and shifted the washcloth again. "Would _you_ trust me if your roles were reversed?" Ziva hesitated a moment too long. "Now you see my point. So please stop trying to talk me out of it."

Ziva sighed quietly. "Okay." She pulled the still ice-cold cloth off Tony's face and threw it into the laundry. She reappeared with a hand towel that she used to wipe off Tony's face once he was seated upright.

Tony grumbled to himself wordlessly as Ziva helped him tie his shoes. She assessed him briefly. "You will have to drive yourself."

"Don't worry, I've done it hundreds of times."

"That is what worries me."

"Don't be a McGee, Zee-vah."

Ziva walked Tony to his car, biting her lip as he got in. "Be careful, Tony."

"Alright, Ziva. Don't run over any pedestrians on your way home."

Ziva stuck out her tongue at him, but smiled all the same and got into her car and drove behind him for a short while before she finally turned off when they were close to Tim's flat, presumably towards her own home.

Tony slowed to a smooth stop, parking in front of Tim's flat before climbing out of the car, The Terminator in hand. he walked up to the door with equally smooth movements and plastered on a fake grin while he waited for Tim to come to the door.

The door opened to reveal a smiling Tim. "Tony." He greeted.

"Terminator?" Tony responded.

Tim grinned. "I love those movies." He stepped aside to let Tony in.

"That's why I picked it," Tony said, heading for the couch and sitting down. Jethro immediately jumped on to the couch and put his head on Tony's lap. "Did I invite you to sit with me, McPooch?" Tony demanded crossly.

Tim laughed. "Jethro, sit on the ground."

The dog in question looked up and gave Tim puppy-dog eyes. Tim raised an eyebrow, and Jethro moved to sit on Tony's feet. Tim rolled his eyes and sat down next to Tony. "Chinese or pizza?"

Tony somehow managed to keep the feeling of nausea he experienced from thinking about food from showing in his face. He decided pizza was the safer bet. He grinned, and turned his head towards Tim. "Pizza." He found that they were very close, and if he hadn't felt so sick right then he might have kissed the younger man.

It seemed Tim was picking up on some of what Tony was feeling. "You alright, Tony?"

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" Tony asked, losing the grin.

Tim decided not to push it and put the DVD into the DVD player instead, turning off the lights before sitting back down and starting the movie. They watched quietly for a while until a head slumped onto Tim's shoulder. He chuckled quietly to himself. "Tony?"

"M'Gee?" Tony mumbled in return.

"Are you okay?"

"Sh, m'sleepin'."

Tim laughed again. "Really? I thought this was supposed to be a date."

Tony made a few guttural noises before what Tim had said registered in his head and he sat upright. "Sorry. Right. I'm awake."

Tim laughed again and turned off the movie. He stood and went to turn on the light.

Tony looked panicked. "I didn't mean that I-I'm just-I-"

"Don't hurt yourself, Tony," Tim said, rolling his eyes. This didn't seem to calm Tony down. "You don't look so good, Tony. Why don't you go home?"

Tony shook his head vigorously. "No. I'm fine. I'm a-okay. Peachy."

"Fine. Then, I'm ordering pizza." Tim turned and left the room.

Tony's stomach was roiling at the thought of eating again. _Man up! _he thought to himself._ It's just pizza._

"Tony?" Tim asked, one eyebrow raised, as he re-entered the room. Tony turned his head to look at him. "You look like your going to be sick."

"M'fine," Tony repeated, as if saying it again would make it more true.

"You don't have to convince me," Tim said dryly. "You look like the poster child of healthy living."

"What's your problem, McGee," Tony snapped, hurt by the hint of annoyance in Tim's voice. Tony winced when he realized how harsh his words were, but before he could speak, Tim did.

"What's _your _problem?" Tim threw back at him, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Lie?" Tim offered dubiously.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Tony, I'm not stupid. You look dead on your feet, and I'm willing to bet that the last thing you want to do right now is eat."

"What gives you that impression?" Tony asked blankly.

Tim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you trust me?"

Tony blanched. "Do we have to talk about this now?" Tony looked down at his feet, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

Tim sat down on the couch next to him, wrapping an arm around Tony's shoulders. He lay his head on Tony's shoulder silently and closed his eyes.

"Tim?" Tony asked hoarsely.

"Mm-hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

They sat that way for a while silently.

Finally Tim spoke again. "I'm not mad at you."

"Okay..." Tony said vaguely.

"And I don't think your cheating on me."

Tony's eyes widened in shock before snapping shut. "Please don't kill me."

Tim sat up putting a hand under Tony's chin. He gently turned Tony's head so that their eyes met. "I'm not mad."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Tony whispered.

"Because it's true. Go home and get some sleep." Tim let go of Tony's chin.

Tony blinked and looked down. He couldn't bring himself to say what he desperately wanted to say. He shifted in resignation but didn't move. He was about to stand when Tim wrapped his arm around his shoulders again and led him to the bedroom. "At least get some sleep, Tony. Please?"

Tony obediently dropped himself onto the bed, shutting his eyes. Tim rolled his eyes and dropped a blanket over Tony.

Tony was asleep before Tim turned out the lights.


	23. Trouble Sleeping

_AN: Since Tuesday's chapter was late, I'm putting this one up early. Also, this chapter is shorter than usual, but I think you'll forgive me. ;)_

Chapter 23: Trouble Sleeping

Tony woke in the middle of the night, at first disoriented. He almost yelped when he realized that he was being held tight by a pair of strong arms that were encircling him, but then he realized it was Tim.

Tony would have gone right back to sleep, but he had to pee, so he tried in vain to wiggle out of Tim's grip without waking the younger man. "Tony?" Tim asked softly.

"Just going to the bathroom, Tim." The younger agent nodded, releasing Tony from his iron grip. As soon as he was let go, Tony made a dash for the bathroom as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid waking Tim twice.

His attempt was foiled when he entered the room a minute later to find Tim breathing softly. Tony decided not to bother Tim by wiggling back into his grasp and lay down on the far side of the bed leaving plenty of space between them so as not to bump into Tim.

But now that he was awake Tony felt cold. Without Tim holding him he felt weird, like he was intruding on Tim's attempt to sleep. He rolled gently out of bed, being as silent as possible, but somehow Tim woke again. "Tony? Where're you going?"

"Blanket." Tony smiled at Tim and left the room. He returned a few seconds later wrapped in the afghan he had used last time. And Tim was asleep again. Tony crawled back into bed, careful not to bump Tim, and tried to pretend that Tim was still wrapped around him, operating under the theory that it would help him sleep.

And it did, but sleep brought only a dream-a memory-from years ago...

_Jeanne and Tony were climbing up the climbing wall. It was late. "What do I get if I bat you to the top?"_

_"You get to tell me you love me."_

_"And what if I don't beat you?"_

_"You still get to tell me you love me."_

_"So is that followed by other physical pursuits?"_

_"If you're not too tired."_

_"Oh, I'm never too tired."_

_Then the scene changed. He was dangling from the edge of the parking garage. "Probie!" His voice cracked as he spoke. "This is not how I want it to end!"_

_"Hang on, Tony. I'm coming," Tony heard McGee shout. _Like he was going to let go.

_But his hands were slipping, and he wasn't sure he was going to make it, and just as he thought he was done for Tim grabbed onto his shoulder and arm. "It's about time," he gasped._

_McGee pulled him over the edge and they both tumbled to the ground. Sitting up against the wall, he patted McGee on the knee. "I love you, McGee. I promise never to give you a hard time again." He patted McGee's shoulder._

_"Yeah right."_

_Then it changed again, and he was sitting in the room in Somalia, tied to the chair, talking to Saleem. And he wasn't sure that McGee was breathing. What if McGee was dead? What if...?_

He was jerked back to wakefulness when a warm hand pressed against his face. "Tony," a voice called somewhere above him.

And through his haze he finally knew where he was. "Tim." He could feel himself shaking, and he was dripping with sweat.

"You okay?" Tim's voice was gentle, soothing.

"Y-yeah. I'm okay." The adrenaline was slowly wearing off.

"Bad dream?" Tim offered softly.

"Yeah. I-" Tony hesitated. "You remember that time in the parking garage?"

"Sure," Tim said, sounding confused.

"What I said that day?" Tony urged. "I meant it."

A look of comprehension crossed Tim's face. He smiled. "Love you too, Tony." Tim brushed a hesitant kiss onto Tony's cheek.

Tony glanced over to find Tim blushing. "I...I had a really hard time saying that to Jeanne," he admitted in a small voice.

"It's okay," Tim said softly. "You were protecting her."

Tony nodded weakly, then buried his face into Tim's shoulder. "I thought you were dead." Tony's voice was muffled.

"What?"

Tony moved his head away a tiny bit. "In Somalia. I thought you were dead." He dropped his head back onto Tim's shoulder.

"But I wasn't. And here I am now. You okay, Tony?"

Tony nodded into his shoulder.

Tim gently maneuvered Tony's chin so that they were looking eye-to-eye. "You sure you're okay?" His breath blew across Tony's face.

And Tony closed the gap between them, kissing Tim gently and slowly before pulling away, ears burning.

Tim smiled back at him and kissed Tony back. Tony seemed to relax and gently flicked his tongue out against Tim's lips in question. Tim parted his lips and Tony slowly moved his tongue inside, exploring Tim's mouth. Tim was a little less timid about his movements, which Tony found surprising but good, and he scooted closer to Tim, wrapping his arms around Tim's waist.

Then Tony finally broke away for air and rested his head gently against Tim's chest, trying really hard to think clearly.

"Tony?" Tim's voice was hesitant.

"Mmmm," Tony replied, head still foggy.

"You okay?"

"You really are a great kisser," was all Tony said.

Tim chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tony tightly. "Go to sleep. We have work in the morning."

Tony groaned, but was too tired to do anything. Slowly he fell asleep.

And once Tim was sure Tony was sound asleep, he let himself drift off as well.


	24. Time and Place

_AN: Sorry this chapter is late, but it's the last one and I wanted to get it just right. There should be a sequel, which will probably be posted in January after finals and winter break. See you then! :)_

Chapter 24: Time and Place

Tony woke up, at first startled that he wasn't alone-Tim's arms were wrapped around him. But as soon as he recognized where he was, he let himself relax back into his partner's arms, falling back asleep...

But just as he was falling asleep, Tim's alarm clock went off. The younger man reacted faster than Tony would have expected, slamming the snooze button to silence the alarm almost before it started.

He wasn't quite fast enough though, because Tony started to move, rolling out of bed onto his feet and trying to blearily find his way around the room.

"Tony, what are you doing?" Tim grumbled, sitting up and flicking on a light.

Tony was so distracted he barely blinked when the light came on. "Looking for my clothes. I have to change before work."

Tim stood up and walked over towards Tony. "After the way you were feeling last night? You're really just going to go to work?"

Tony glanced up, meeting the full force of Tim's stubborn gaze. "I feel fine now. I'll eat breakfast, grab some coffee, and I'll be fine. A little tired, but that's nothing unusual. I'm fine, Tim."

Tim looked skeptical, but chose not to comment. Instead, he disappeared into the bathroom while Tony pulled on his clothes and began searching for his shoes.

"Tim, where're my shoes?" Tony groaned, glancing at the clock, willing time to go slower, even though it was still before he would have gotten up on his own.

"By the door with your wallet and keys. Your phone's by the bed." Tony heard the shower start as soon as Tim was finished speaking.

"Uh, bye then," Tony muttered sheepishly, mostly to himself.

Tim's head appeared at the door to the bedroom. "Bye, Tony. Love you."

Tony turned and smiled at Tim, forcing down the internal conflict at those words. "Love you, too." And somehow, he really meant it for the first time. He grabbed his phone and left the room, shoving on his shoes and collecting his wallet and keys on the way out the door.

During the drive home, Tony started to realize how hungry he was, and decided to get ready fast so he could pick something up on his way to work. This made the drive seem longer, but actually go faster, as Tony was not-strictly speaking-obeying traffic laws.

Tony ran up the steps to his flat, unlocking the door and then locking it behind him. He went back to his room, through his clothes in a hamper of dirty laundry and then started the water for his shower. He didn't wait for the water to warm up before jumping in. He was out of the shower in three minutes, and barely paused to dry off before heading towards his closet for clothes.

Once dressed, Tony grabbed his backpack and keys before heading out to his car. He stopped by a Starbucks on his way in, getting coffee for the team and vanilla scones. He also stopped at Einstein's, getting a backers dozen of bagels, which he stowed in his trunk after removing two of them and some cream cheese, which he stuffed haphazardly into the front pocket of his backpack.

He arrived, as usual, about five minutes late. He placed a mug on each of his co-workers desks-none of them were anywhere to be seen, though there stuff was still there so he knew they weren't out on a case. Then he placed a bagel with cream cheese on a napkin in front of Tim's computer, careful not to get any cream cheese anywhere, and smothered his own bagel in cream cheese. He propped his feet up on his desk, holding a bagel in one hand and his coffee in the other.

Tim entered the squad room a few moments later, having gone to see Abby. Seeing the bagel on his desk, he turned to Tony with a raised eyebrow. Tony shrugged nonchalantly before taking another bite out of his own bagel.

"When did you get to be so generous?" Tim asked, picking up the bagel and taking a bite out of it.

Through a mouthful of food, Tony said, "Not generous. I owe you."

Tim wasn't convinced, knowing Tony was trying to be nice, but would never admit it. "Thanks."

Tony shrugged again, taking another huge bite out of his bagel.

Ziva arrived-neither of the agents had any idea as to where she had been-as Tony took a huge bite of his bagel. "Tony, you are going to choke to death on that thing."

Through his mouthful of food, Tony attempted to say something, but it came out too muffled to be understood.

Ziva winced. "That is disgusting." She turned back to her computer, deciding to ignore Tony, who was making faces at her.

He was stopped by a sudden slap to the back of the head. "DiNozzo, what are you doing?"

"Just, eating breakfast, boss." Tony said after swallowing.

"Well put that on hold. We have a dead marine at Quantico." Gibbs was already grabbing his stuff as he spoke.

There was a sudden burst of movement as the team all went for their gear, sigs, and badges as fast as they could to keep up with Gibbs. They all made it to the elevator at about the same time, joining Gibbs and riding down the elevator together. Gibbs and Ziva took the car while Tony and Tim took the truck. Tony drove. Tony flashed Tim a signature grin as the other two pulled out before leaning over and giving the younger agent a quick kiss.

"We're not doing anything at work, Tony. I hope you realize that."

Tony grinned at Tim. "Of course not. Gibbs would know. That would just be bad timing."

Tim scoffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same as they drove towards Quantico.


End file.
